


Florrick, Agos and Associates

by aliciawillromance



Category: Good Wife (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:59:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 37,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciawillromance/pseuds/aliciawillromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Or not? Who can say where the show will lead? What if Alicia were to really leave L&G to start her own firm with Cary? How would that impact Will and L&G?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"We really made it…" Alicia considered, as she looked around with a pleased smile at the yet slightly unfamiliar surroundings. She breathed deeply, inhaling the mixed scent of fresh paint and wood furniture. Unfamiliar, a bit alien, bare and still impersonal. Except for the elegant, shiny sign hanging outside the front door.

' _Florrick, Agos and Associates_ '

Rocking on  _her_  leather chair at  _her_  desk in  _her_  corner office, she still couldn't believe how things had turned so ugly at Lockhart & Gardner in the space of a few short weeks. She had to swallow all her pride, self-esteem and her hard-gained self-sufficiency to ask Peter for some financial support. Because even if the offices were on lease, all the collateral expenses had been a real bloodbath. But in the end, it was totally worth some humility.

The view from the eighth floor of an old building on South LaSalle Street was nowhere close to the one she got used to over the last four years, but it was  _her_  view, thus special.

"Yeah we did," Cary said with a broad grin, comfortably sitting on Alicia's desk. "We went deep from the cubby-holes' days…"

"And from the office-cohabitation days," she pointed out with a raised brow and a knowing smile.

For a brief moment, Alicia clouded over as she remembered how she had loved her now old firm, and how she had ended up hating it when she was given – then quickly taken away - equity partnership.  _She didn't fight. Or scream. Or protest. She had gone back to her office, taken her stuff and on her way out, she had stopped_ _at_ _the door. 'Good luck,' she had said to Cary before walking away for good. The day after, she had found a message on her cellphone. 'Need an associate?'_.

Now they both had their long craved for corner office, four associates, a reasonable number of clients and a new investigator. Because Kalinda, in spite of all the most recent and unpleasant events, had chosen not to join her. Still, she had helped them find a good replacement. Aline Cooper was a blond in her early thirties. Smart, intuitive and enthusiastic, with a confident attitude and the gift of the gab, her temperament seemed to fit perfectly into the dynamic of the newborn firm. With some luck, Kalinda's unlimited connections would prove to be useful for the millionth time.

"It wasn't that bad," Cary noticed with an amused face.

Alicia's answer was a face of plain confusion. "What?"

"The office-cohabitation."

Alicia smiled. "A bit chaotic," she shrugged, "but the company was enjoyable," she said with a light nod.

"Talking about enjoyable company," Cary started, as he peeped around, looking through the glass walls in search of someone whom he didn't seem to find, "what do you think of the investigator?"

Alicia shrugged. She knew very well what Cary's doubts were about and she tried to dissipate any hint of melancholy before they would end up feeling miserable for what – and  _whom_  – they left behind. "She seems… very capable… and enthusiastic," she said, as she peeped around herself, unable to spot the woman. She sighed. "It was her choice, Cary," she remarked, not hiding a shadow of bitterness. Cary would never admit it in front of anyone, but Alicia knew that his feelings for Kalinda were of a nature that went beyond the mere friendship and the relationship between coworkers. She had sometimes tried to picture them together. They would make an interesting pair, one of those opposites-attract-each- other' kind of couples she watched in some movies. "Plus, it's our first official day as named partners," she said as she stood up with a knowing smile, "and it's something that requires celebration," she added as she took two bottles of beer from the fridge and handed one to Cary, "and good thoughts," she winked.

"Shouldn't such a celebration require some kind of champagne?" Cary asked with an amused tone, as he stood up and lifted the bottle in front of him.

"Nahhh… champagne is for snobs," she considered, throwing an approving look at the bottle.

"Champagne is not for snobs!" Cary contradicted her, "I like champagne… and I'm not snob…"

Alicia burst into laughter and raised her bottle in a toast. "To Florrick, Agos and Associates!"

"To named partners," Cary added with a nod.

"To new beginnings," Alicia went on. They had so many reasons to celebrate, didn't they?

Cary looked away thoughtfully for a moment, maybe trying to come up with another good reason to celebrate, then looked back at Alicia. "To snobs!"

Alicia laughed and nodded in approval. "And to all those clients who were brave enough to follow us." They weren't many. The name of Lockhart & Gardner had become stronger now that the financial troubles were gone, although they all knew that the relatively peaceful and safe situation was certainly precarious, now that they had lost some of their best associates.

A fleeting thought eluded her only-good-thoughts and intentions, and alighted on Will, releasing a mixed feeling of anger, betrayal, and guilt. The last look he gave her before she left her old firm for good was something she wasn't going to forget that easily.

"To us," she concluded, then joined their bottles with a light clink.

"To us," Cary repeated with a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

Will's Monday morning was almost over, gone by in a messy and inconclusive attempt to fill the gaps left by the sudden shortage of associates.

As he frantically searched for something on his desk, papers kept falling on the floor, adding chaos to chaos. His secretary had really chosen the worst day to call in sick. Was she really sick anyway or just got a whiff of what would happen and battened down the hatches? He looked up as he noticed a female figure standing silently in front of him.

"Need help?" Diane said, with a bit of concern, as she glanced around at the mess that was his office.

"I can't find the Thomas/Lewis folder, I have a staff meeting with Martin in half an hour," he said, as he moved more piles of papers to the couch to make room on his desk. He loathed not being able to find what he looked for. The number of clients they had lost wasn't clearly proportional to the number of associates that left. Not by a long shot, Will considered, as the frustration grew more and more by the minute; he didn't find the damn folder.

"Will... we don't have the Thomas/Lewis case anymore," Diane observed, with quiet demeanor, as she stepped in and moved closer, managing to obtain a bit more of his attention.

Will looked up at her, confused at first. What did that mean? Why didn't they have the Thomas/Lewis case anymore?

"Actually we don't even have Martin anymore… he's one of the associates who left…" Diane's voice sounded very calm.

Too calm, Will considered, under the circumstances. Which only made him even more frustrated. He had wasted two hours chasing nothing. He started to seethe, as anger began to mix with frustration in a dangerous union. With a quick gesture, he took his baseball from the desk and in a rage threw it against the wall. The rebound unexpectedly hit the floor lamp, making it fall over. He heard the sound of broken glass, but didn't move. He looked at the lamp on the floor. He never liked it anyway. He breathed deeply, trying to calm down as he realized that he was starting to lose control. How could she have done it? Alicia of all people. He could have expected it from everyone else, but not from her. It was a real stab in the back. He moved to the window wall and peered outside to avoid any questioning gaze from Diane.

"Will…" Diane said with a hint of reproach in her voice. "Is this all about lost clients or lost associates?"

"They left us in complete chaos!" He said, his voice raising as he pointed at all the folders piled up on his desk.

"We should be thankful instead that many clients chose to stay," Diane observed, as she moved next to him. For a brief moment, silence brought back some quiet inside those four walls. "We asked for it…" She said with a light shrug, still looking out, as she met the reflected image of Will in the glass.

They had really asked for it. Will didn't even know what he was expecting in the end. But he couldn't get rid of the image of  _that_  fight. He had done the right thing; the advantage of his own firm. That was how things were supposed to be. First his firm, then everything else. Everything else was just… side effect. Even losing her… it was nothing more than a side effect. Then why all this anger? He remembered the conversation he had with Diane one year before, his promise to be ready to sacrifice Alicia if things would turn really difficult for the firm. He never needed to fulfill his promise. Even when he had every right to do it, he had chosen to sacrifice himself for her. What had happened since then? The situation had reversed along the way and Alicia did what was, all things considered, in her best interest. He couldn't blame her. Promoted to partner then downgraded to associate again. Twice in a few weeks time.

"Associates can be replaced at any time… now that we are over the financial crisis we won't have any problem to find new ones," Diane said, as she walked away and started to gather some of the papers scattered on the floor.

Associates… Alicia wasn't an associate. She was way more than that and Will thought that it was very polite for Diane to keep the discussion on a general level. The last thing he wanted was to discuss his feelings. He didn't even want to think about what he felt. He felt at the same time betrayed and betrayer. Too much to handle right now. Diane was right. Associates could be replaced. Maybe it was better. New young greedy lawyers to get back on track before people would start making wrong and harmful assumptions that might hurt the firm's reputation again. His suspension first, then the verge of bankruptcy. Now his best associates teaming up against them. What else? He shook his head to get rid of all those thoughts.  _Suck it up_.

"Leave it…" Will said, not moving from his stance. "I'll do it, my meeting is blown anyway." He slowly walked back to his desk and sat down with a resigned look. The folders would never collate themselves. "All this stuff needs to be reassigned to the other associates… We have to arrange a staff meeting as soon as possible," he said as he quickly scanned through the labels and started to divide the folders in a sort of sensed classification. He noticed Diane standing up and stared at her for a moment. The satisfied half smile on her face was very eloquent. It was time to leave his outburst behind and move on. He still had a firm, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

With an unhurried and confident pace, Alicia walked up the steps to the SA's building. She was due in court in something more than fifteen minutes for her first trial as named partner. She felt excited and nervous at the same time. The enthusiasm and energy with which she and Cary had thrown themselves into this adventure clashed loudly with the reality of their utter need to win all the cases and accumulate the most possible billable hours.

With the firm still being in the cradle, the human resources were still scarce and they had to provide a temporary remedy by playing second chair to each other. It meant extra work for everyone, but with some luck, it was a situation that wouldn't last long. Once past the initial financial struggles, she and Cary could hire the already budgeted three junior associates, if not more. Enough to breathe easy.

As soon as she walked into the hallway, she spotted Martin Cage and gave him a small wave. Leaning against the wall with a folder in his hands, Martin was one of the four-year associates who was deceived with partnership at L&G then downgraded to associate again. And he was one of the first lawyers to join her in the new firm. They never really get along well, back at L&G. Actually, Alicia was pretty sure he was one of those who used to spit venomous words of disdain behind her back and who cast veiled accusations toward her suspiciously quick career inside the firm. So she was a bit surprised when he had offered his services, but they needed associates and had to take whatever was given.

The hallway was muffled with a peaceful and unreal silence. She was used to assistants and onlookers leaving a bit before the end of the session. The absolute lack of comings and goings of people through the courtroom's doors meant that the previous trial session was probably still in full swing.

"Hey," she said as she approached Martin, then glanced around.

"Hey," Martin answered. "Guess who's in there now?" He asked, gesturing at the closed doors.

Uh. Oh.

"Which case?" She asked, with a contrived laid-back demeanor.

"I glimpsed the man at the defense table. Howard Marshall," he answered, very quietly.

Howard Marshall? Damn. He was one of her clients who had chosen to stay with L&G. She stared thoughtfully at the closed doors and wondered who acquired the case in her place. He wasn't one of the golden gooses, rather a minor client. Not a big loss for her firm, to be totally honest, but a loss nevertheless. Whoever was in there defending him, she hoped for enough chaos between the two sessions to avoid any awkward encounter. She glanced around, a bit nervously. Ten minutes to the trial and her client was nowhere to be seen. "Where's Mr. Barnes, by the way?"

Without a word, Martin pointed left with his thumb. Alicia followed the directions and her gaze met the closed door of the restroom. She shook her head and hoped Mr. Barnes wasn't having a sudden panic attack for having moved his interest to a smaller firm.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the courtroom's doors being flung open. She instinctively stood up straight and peeped into the hall and at the defense table. Eyeing between the leaving crowd, she caught a glimpse of Mr. Marshall and a blond head next to him. She frowned and stiffened in embitterment. Diane and Will certainly didn't lose time in replacing the old associates, did they? She looked back at Martin and noticed her client walking up towards them with a tense gaze. Just in time. She smiled reassuringly and nodded at him.

"Mr. Barnes, good morning," she said, offering her hand in a polite shake.

"Mrs. Florrick," the man acknowledged with a light nod. "Mr. Cage was telling me that we've been assigned to a new judge," he said. The quivering in his voice exposed all his anxiety.

Alicia smiled. "It's a good thing, actually," she reassured him, "this judge is famous for his open mind and benevolence. You couldn't be in better hands."

And she couldn't be any happier. This trial was a safe bet.

As the outgoing flow of people reduced to some sporadic groups, Alicia invited Martin and their client to follow her in. As she turned on her heels, she stopped to let what was probably the last group out. She had a start as she recognized an all-too-familiar face among the small group. Alicia froze, as she met Will's features clouded in a tense grimace.

The relaxed, peaceful climate was suddenly evicted by a chilling silence.

"Hey," was all she could say, as her mind went back to their last and rueful conversation. Will had sensed her intention to leave way before she had officially slipped her letter of resignation on his desk. She could have chosen to leave it on Diane's desk, but both her and Will knew perfectly well that behind her ultimate decision there was a lot more than her career – or sudden lack of.

"Hey," Will answered in a serious tone.

She tried with all her might to stay completely emotionless and detached, as she gazed straight into his eyes. It was the worst thing she could do. Because if there was something she should have learned over the last years, it was that Will's eyes spoke for his heart. She sighed inwardly as she read the mix of grief and remorse behind his cold façade.

At the same time, the presence of Martin and their client behind her made the unexpected encounter all the more awkward and burning.

She couldn't say anything more than that simple, innocent 'hey' without baring too much of the way she felt herself. "I'm due in court now," she said, quickly looking inside the still empty hall. It was her only way out of a proximity that made her sweaty.

Will nodded, then looked away.

With his gaze fixed somewhere else, Alicia felt better.

"Good luck," he said with a light nod.

Alicia smiled lightly and nodded herself as she watched him walk away.


	4. Chapter 4

Just back from lunch, Will was sitting in his office, his pensive stare lost somewhere outside the window.

The unexpected encounter from the morning was the worst thing that could have happened.

On one hand, seeing Alicia had created such a turmoil of conflicted feelings, which would be completely impossible from any other human being.

But on the other hand it had been the slap he needed to get back to the bitter reality of facts. She was gone. And if he knew her even just a little bit, he knew that she would never come back again.

Instinctively, he looked toward the glass wall, as if she could walk by any moment and knock at his door.  _No_. She wouldn't knock at his door anyway. They spent so much time avoiding each other that he couldn't even remember the last time he actually heard her light knock at his door.

In a sort of déjà vu, Will heard knocking at his door and turned to look at his guest, on instinct. But the woman staring at him with a perplexed look wasn't Alicia.

"Kalinda, come in," he invited her, as he slightly shook away what remained of the fleeting image of Alicia at his door, with that light smile that always graced her pretty face.

"I did some research on our friend Vasquez," Kalinda said, confident and decided, as the ticking of her stiletto heels accompanied her steps till she sat on the chair in front of him.

Still not completely back to the real world, it took Will a moment to remember who Vasquez was. Oh, yes, the tax evasion dude.

"What did you dig up?" Will asked, indicating with a glance the agenda in her hands.

"Something you will like," Kalinda said.

Good. He needed good news. Will noted her questioning gaze but carefully ignored it. Instead, he invited her to go on and spit it out.

"1031 exchange."

Will frowned in incomprehension. "What's that?" He asked, as he sat up straight to give her full attention.

"Internal Revenue Code," she explained, matter-of-factly. "It says that owners of certain kinds of assets can defer capital gains taxes on any exchange of like-kind properties for business or investment purposes."

Will nodded. "But we don't have any exchange of like-kind properties, do we?" he asked with a shrug, as he quickly skimmed the tags on the folders to search for Vasquez's. Once found, he started flipping through the pages, looking for his assets list.

"Actually we have," Kalinda contradicted him.

Will looked up at her. "We do?"

Kalinda nodded with a smile. "The small apartment he bought on West Madison."

Will looked even more confused. "I don't have any apartment on West Madison in my list. I have one on North Jefferson."

"Which he sold to pay for the overdue taxes. The new one is assigned to his daughter," Kalinda smiled.

 _His daughter?_  "He has only one daughter, right?" He asked, and his face lighted up as he met her nod.

Will remembered that his daughter accompanied his client during one of the pretrial hearings. And he remembered even more that she said she worked with her father, both freelancers for the same magazine. Now they had both the exchange of like-kind properties and the business purpose. "I owe you one. Beer. Tonight." He offered with a grateful smile.

Kalinda stared at him, unreadable.

Will knew that stare very well. He was its addressee every time something was wrong between him and Alicia. A stare he willy-nilly had to get used to.

"Why don't you try and offer that drink to someone else instead?" She hinted.

"Why should I?" He shrugged, then looked away, staring once again into the distance and at the view of his window.

"You know why," she answered, softly.

It was always like that with Kalinda. She threw it out casually and left him there to turn it over in his mind.

"And you know why I won't," he said, trying to appear indifferent to the topic. Game lost from the outset.

What would he do anyway? Show up at her door? At her firm? At her office? To say what? They had gone too far for apologies, and even farther for any kind of celebration or attempt to patch it. They had gone too far for everything.

He couldn't even call Laura. She had put him on the spot one week before about the real reasons behind his recent distraction and moodiness. She wasn't stupid. Not that he did a great job in hiding it anyway. His poker face and self-command seemed to be getting worse and worse with age. He didn't know if he was just losing his edge or losing verve. Or just losing hope in love.

Kalinda nodded, but didn't add anything.

Will was thankful that she didn't persist. A little less thankful that she refused his offer for beer. Ahead of him, there was another lonely night. The choice was between wasting it on some movie he wouldn't watch anyway or bringing his job home with him to keep his mind busy till sleep would reach him.

"We're done here," he dismissed her with a polite smile.

Again, Kalinda just nodded and stood up, leaving him to struggle to concentrate on work and to close the doors to the upcoming night. But as much as he tried, the image of Alicia's face kept coming back to him.

_Why don't you try and offer that drink to someone else instead?_

He couldn't really imagine any more insane and misplaced idea.


	5. Chapter 5

Why didn't they hire a 'real' bookkeeper? Sitting at her desk, buried in receipts, Alicia kept repeating to herself that there was a reason she was a lawyer and not an accountant. Cary was patiently sorting all those tickets by category, in a smooth operating double-team effort, which simplified the job for Alicia by reducing it to the simple entry in the account book. As simple as boring. Used to balancing the family books, she thought it would be quick and easy. She laid the pen on the desk for a moment and rubbed her eyes in tiredness. It was all temporary. The bookkeeper would eventually come together with the junior associates. It was only a matter of time.

"Restaurant," Cary said, mechanically, almost monotonously, as he placed the ticket on its pile. The dull tone of his voice gave away the same tiredness as Alicia's.

"We eat too much," Alicia commented, trying to vitalize the tedious task with some random talk.

Cary smiled without looking up. " _Ryan_  eats too much," he pointed out, as he moved another ticket to the restaurant pile. "Restaurant."

Alicia widened her eyes in a look of disbelief and failed to hold back an amused laugh. "That was… mean!" Ryan Griffin was one of the associates who joined them. A young second-year associate, brilliant, nice but with an expensive over-passion for food.

"Hotel," Cary said with a smirk, wisely changing the subject, as he placed the very last ticket on its pile.

Alicia glanced at the receipt and gaped in shock as she read the printed figures. "249 dollars!" As she looked up, she met Cary's guilty look and death-stared at him, her eyes demanding a valid reason.

"Bonner's sister, she slept in Chicago the night before the hearing. He's our best client, I couldn't make his sister sleep in some squalid boarding house," he explained, shrugging his apologies.

"Why not the Four Seasons then?" She asked, with a not so hinted vein of irony.

"Too far," Cary said with a light shrug.

His look, between sorry and amused, made Alicia burst into laughter. She shook her head, still trying to absorb the astronomical expense. She knew the expense would be billed to Bonner but the lag between billing and receiving the money could take several months, if they were lucky. Another reality of owning their own firm, collections.

Cary's phone rang loudly in the silence of the deserted firm.

As Cary excused himself and stood up quickly to take the call, Alicia checked the clock. It said 9:05pm. She sighed in exhaustion and smiled. It was like being back more than four years in time; when she had just resumed working, when she worked so many late hours, when she actually had to work so many late hours. With the difference that, at the time she had to only worry about her own family, now she and Cary were responsible for five families, besides their own. And this was just the beginning.

But there was something so unique in all of this. It was bracing, motivating and challenging. It was the change she needed in a moment of her life, when she had found herself questioning her own true worth as a lawyer. And it was the necessary distance from an affective situation that had risked getting out of control, now that she was just starting to piece back together her old life.

Cary peeked into her office, his phone in hand and his jacket on one shoulder, leaning against her door. "If we are done here… I…"

Alicia smiled and nodded in understanding. He clearly had plans for the night and it certainly wasn't her intention to spoil his arrangements. "Sure… see you tomorrow…"

"Good night," Cary answered with a smile, then turned to leave.

She looked back at the piles of tickets and sighed in frustration, as the light ding of the elevators reminded her that she was now completely alone. No way she was entering all those documents tonight. Even the thought was tiring. She considered leaving too, after all it was a job that could be finished the next night anyway.

Another almost unperceivable ding of the elevators made her look up, interrupting her thoughts.  _Cary forgot something_. She glanced outside the glass wall of her office and into the hallway, waiting for someone to show up. But nobody seemed to be there. Around her, there was only an utter silence and dark offices. Weariness was clearly playing tricks on her. She shook her head and looked back to her receipts. She was exhausted and willing to head home the soonest possible. Receipts could totally wait.

A light knock at her door made her start a bit. This time it wasn't her imagination. As she looked up to her late visitor, she froze and swallowed.

Standing in front of her, his hands behind his back, Will was staring at her, hesitantly.

She opened her mouth to say something, but the mix of shock and surprise prevailed over words.

Eventually, Will was the one who broke the uncomfortable silence. "Hey," he said, not moving from his stance.

Alicia didn't answer straightaway. Her brain was still reeling from the surprise; it took her a long moment to overcome the bewilderment. "Hey," she answered, confused but pleased by his visit. "I…" She had no idea what to say, but nor could she just sit there, staring at him with a blank face. She stood up with a quick movement and took a few steps, stopping in front of her desk.

Will looked down for a moment, maybe pondering what to say, maybe regretting his visit, Alicia couldn't say. But when he looked up at her again, her instinct – or her heart – brought a light, unsecure smile to her face. Whatever the reason that brought him here, it wasn't on unfriendly terms. And Alicia didn't know if this made her feel relieved or just more nervous.

"You shouldn't be here…" Her voice, even whispered, sounded quivering to her own ears.

"I know…" Will started with hesitation, as he looked away for a moment, seemingly getting acquainted to the unfamiliar surroundings. "I… I just didn't have the opportunity to congratulate you on your firm," he said with a faint voice, as their eyes met again in a tense, yet enthralled gaze. "I thought it was time to fix that," he said, as he moved his arm forward to reveal a bottle in his hand.

 _Champagne_.

Alicia nodded, forcing herself to hold back a bit of emotionality as she recalled her same act, only few months before. His first day back after the suspension. She remembered, over the following days, her need to peek into his office, now and then, just because it was relieving and warming to see him back in the place where he belonged; his firm. She never knew if Will got her gift after all or not. It didn't really matter either. But the memory made her smile. There was something so special and intimate in that little gesture. It was sort of a special, unspoken understanding between them to let the other know that, no matter what, they would always support each other. "Thank you," she whispered.

This was one of most miserable attempts at a conversation ever, she thought. What was she supposed to do now? Take the bottle and say goodnight? Take two glasses, have a quick drink, then say goodbye and try to move on? And what was Will expecting her to do in the first place? She swallowed and looked down at the reassuring, harmless sight of her own feet, sighing imperceptibly. In something that Will would probably define as a weak moment, she shook her head and moved to take two glasses from over the fridge then invited him with her gaze and the shadow of a smile to follow her on to the small leather couch. Will accepted her invitation and, with a bit of hesitancy, he sat next to her.

They had worked hard to stay away from each other, and here they were; only a few inches between them, champagne, his cologne and the stillness of the empty firm as company. For a moment, Alicia thought that this was the worst circumstance ever. How had the idea to show up at night with alcohol in his hand ever cross Will's mind? How, after all the talk about having to stay away from each other? And how in the world did she end up going along with it? She watched, a bit nervously, as Will broached the bottle with a soft pop and the enticing aroma of champagne filled the room. Her eyes fixed on the glasses, she carefully avoided meeting his gaze. She silently pleaded her sweaty hands to not let the glasses slip from her grasp as she brought them closer to Will so he could fill them.

"So… this is your corner office," Will said, giving a quick look around.

"Yeah," Alicia replied, with a wide smile and a proud tone, as she handed him his glass. Her gaze fixed on their brushing hands, her mind kept on advising her to not stare into his eyes. She wasn't used to this proximity anymore, it was making everything all the more uncomfortable. She loathed how she couldn't trust herself around him. And that was one of the reasons she had chosen to leave.

"How does it feel? Being the boss?" Will joked, as he placed the bottle on the small table and raised his glass in a toast.

 _Being the boss_. That was what she was now. The boss. It felt authoritative and… "Scary."

Will burst into soft laughter, as their glasses met with an echoing clink.

"How can you head up 200 employees and still sleep at night?" She asked, between amazed and dumbfounded, then sipped her champagne, enjoying the pleasant sensations of the sparkling bubbles flowing down her throat. She looked at her glass for a moment. Maybe a bit of alcohol wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"Who says I sleep?" Will asked back, amused.

Alicia hummed, pensively. "Uhm… I say," she joked, as her mind involuntarily projected images of moments that she was deeply striving to forget. She needed more champagne, as she looked away, outside her office and into the dark.

She thanked the muffled traffic on the street for providing some company to their breathing. She dared to cast a quick glance at Will. He seemed lost in some thought, or memory, she couldn't say. But he looked serious.

"So are we parting ways for good?" He finally asked, giving voice to what had probably been their common thought over the last days.  _For good_. It sounded so definitive. Of course they were likely to meet in the courtroom. After all, they did that same morning. But it wasn't going to be the same anymore and they both knew it. Like they both knew that it was a necessary step.

"It's for our best," she whispered, mentally brushing up all the reasons that led her to the final break up. With him. With the firm.

"I know," Will said with a light nod, his gaze lost into the popping bubbles. "I guess I should go now," he said, placing his glass on the small table.

Alicia nodded. She didn't want him to leave but wanted him to leave at the same time. How was that even possible? But most important, she didn't want  _him_  to know that she didn't want him to leave. She followed him as he stood up, with her gaze first, then with light, unhurried steps, the clicking of her heels resounding in the silence. Till they stopped a few steps from each other, right in front of her door. "Thanks for coming," she whispered. "It means a lot." Her gaze fell down at the reassuring parquet floor for the millionth time that night.

When she finally looked up, she caught him looking down in turn and started to doubt her choice. If they could barely hold each other's gaze, would they ever be able to really move on?

"Good luck," Will said, in the end. Their eyes met for a brief moment.

"Thank you." Alicia hinted a soft smile, as her eyes pleaded Will not to take a single step closer. She was thankful and relieved – maybe no, could she honestly say that she was relieved? – when he smiled back and left. She leaned against her door and watched him walking down the hallway and disappearing around the corner.


	6. Chapter 6

Will stopped in front of Diane's office. The glass door was closed, he took a brief moment to study her expression, unnoticed, before facing her. Her gaze lost somewhere beyond her desk, she would look simply lost in thought to everyone else. But not to him. He had learned to recognize the subtle, almost imperceptible difference between her lost-in-thought and lost-in-concern postures. Her back straight, her shoulders slightly clenched from tension. She had a way of controlling her stress, such enviable self-control, that he was slowly losing day by day. He already knew she was the bearer of bad news. The tone of her voice on the phone, twenty minutes before, was unequivocal in its brevity. With a light sigh, he grabbed the handle firmly and walked in, confident in his stride, ready for the worst inside.

If it weren't for her gaze, shifting imperceptibly from the empty space in front of her to his shoes, he would question if she even noticed his presence.

"We lost another client to Alicia and Cary," she said, barely whispering, as she moved her eyes from his feet to his eyes, as to catch his immediate and unconscious reaction.

Chills.

The news really came as an unexpected shock.  _Not another one_ , he pleaded to himself, as he sat in front of her, shifting restlessly on what he was quite sure was a very comfortable chair.

"Who?" Was all he managed to say.

"Bryan Jacob Spaulding," she said very slowly. The calmness of her voice and the name she had just mentioned were striding like chalk on a blackboard.

And the long name, spoken so slowly, kept on resounding in his head. It was a bad litany he'd gladly get rid of.

It was the third client in a couple of weeks. This wasn't bad. Bad was losing a trial. Bad was losing an associate. Losing Spaulding was a catastrophe.

He caught a glimpse of something that looked like suspect in Diane's eyes.  _A mole? A double agent?_  Every muscle of his body tensed in the attempt to wall the thought out. He refused to even think about that eventuality. He didn't need any question asked. He didn't want that thought to become words. "No," he answered, severe, sharply, before Diane could say anything.

"Three clients, Will," Diane said, as she leaned forward to rest her arms on her desk. "Three clients," she repeated slowly.

He looked away and out of the window, searching for a plausible explanation in the gloomy Chicago sky. Diane seemed very resolute, with the confident manner of someone who already had a possible answer. An answer that - he was quite sure of that – he wouldn't like. "Who?" He dared to ask, as he looked back to meet her concerned gaze.

"It can only be someone who has connections with both firms," she said with a low voice, "either professional or  _personal_ ," she hinted.

He stiffened.  _Kalinda_.

"No," he said sharply. It was a chance he wasn't even contemplating. "She would never do it." This was simply beyond any possible belief. But the lawyer in him knew that they had to find another suspect. And a very likely one. But for the life of him, he had no idea who. Some dissatisfied associate? Or secretary? Was there some link he was missing? Were they sure it was some insider in the first place? What if it wasn't? Suddenly, he remembered that blond woman talking to Cary a few days ago outside the SA's building. He frowned his suspicion. "What do we know of their investigator?" He asked, as he sat more comfortably, his closed hands stretched in front of him.

Diane shrugged. "Nothing," she said, as her gaze slowly changed from confusion to realization.

"Then we need a background check," he said with a light nod.

"We can't."

Diane's answer took him a bit off-guard. The diversion didn't work. Nevertheless, he bluffed bewilderment. "Why?"

"We can't rule out Kalinda's involvement a priori," Diane said with plain sorrow.

 _Yes, we can_. _Or can't we?_  He should have learned by now that there was no such thing as loyalty. Not when both  _professional_  and  _personal_  interests – to use Diane's own words - were at stake.

"What if she's not?" Will asked a question that in his mind was only rhetoric. Of course she wasn't. There wasn't even the slightest shadow of doubt in him. They both swore to have each other's back years before and always did ever since. And the road from discontent to betrayal wasn't so thin to lead her to such a prickly place.

"What if she is?" Diane insisted. Her tone, resolute but soft at the same time, was for him a clear sign that she didn't believe it either. But nor could they risk losing more clients like that. And the only way was to keep out the suspects.

"We can't suspect our only investigator." Will's ultimate words met Diane's silence. He heaved a deep, resigned sigh. "Ok. Gary."

Diane's look was complete confusion. "Who?"

"Our IT guy," he explained. The IT department was something whose existence had always been mostly unknown to Diane, like a sort of mysterious poltergeist whose role wasn't clear.

"Do we have an IT guy?" Diane asked, sounding even more confused.

Will smiled lightly and nodded. "Yes, we have an IT guy."

"Sometimes I feel like I'm losing control over my own firm and its employees." The fake concern in Diane's voice was betrayed by the amusement in her eyes.

Will burst into soft laughter. "I'm afraid it's not just a feeling," he said between laughs.

Diane shook her head and looked away for a moment, staring at her laptop. Was she contemplating the role of the IT department? "What do we need an IT guy for, by the way?"

"Have you ever asked him to do Internet research for you?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Should I have?" The amused tone of her voice perfectly matched Will's.

"And this is why you don't know what we need an IT guy for," he explained with a knowing look, as he stood up to leave. "I'll take care of it." He said.

He started to pray that he was right and that Kalinda had really nothing to do with the mutiny that was slowly – not so slowly, to be honest – sinking his firm, after the hard work needed to resurface.


	7. Chapter 7

Sitting at a Starbuck's table, Alicia was slowly sipping a tall caffè latte. She was due in court in a little less than half an hour and had little and restless sleep the night before. She was feeling the pressure of being a partner, which had her feeing down at the moment. The increase of important clients carried along the growing anxiety of losing them.

Spaulding had been a real big shot. She wondered how they had taken such loss at Lockhart & Gardner. She felt some sort of guilt, though for the life of her she couldn't say why. After all, it had been the client's own choice. But seeing them losing important clients when they had just healed from their financial fallout was something that gave her a certain apprehension and discomfort. This wasn't her purpose when she left. She just wanted to distance herself from… from many things. But the irony of her always alert and overthinking conscience kept her bounded to her old firm by an invisible – yet thick – thread of melancholy and guilt. She shook her head, firmly.

 _Don't think about it anymore. You have a trial waiting for you and must stay focused_.

Easier said than done, as the constant ding of the front door was irritating. And not just a little.

She looked up at the door and at the coming and going of customers, and had a start. Damn. Will, of all the people who could get through that door. She stared at him for a brief moment, enough to memorize that he was on the phone, his coat underarm – the weather was warmer than one would expect for an April's day – and he seemed nervous. She looked down in instinct, her gaze fixed on a magazine left abandoned on her table and the weak protection of her coffee mug in front of her face.

It had been a couple of weeks, maybe a bit more, since the last time she saw him. The night he showed up at her office door with champagne and congratulations. For a fleeting moment, a light, almost imperceptible smile surfaced, curling up her lips.  _No_. Rationality regained control. She shouldn't allow herself to delve into such tempting memories.

She raised her head slightly to see if he was still there, but her sight was blocked by an elegant and custom-tailored gray suit. A suit that, alas, she knew very well. Like she knew the silhouette of its wearer without needing to meet his gaze. "Hey." Bye bye to avoiding him.

"Hey," Will repeated.

He seemed a bit embarrassed. Had she been so criminally blatant in her attempt to avoid him? She looked back down, fully reciprocating his discomfort. Suddenly she felt the need for a relaxing tisane rather than coffee. "I was about to leave," she said, offering a way out for both.

Will shook his head. "No, it's okay, you don't have to leave."

Good. Now she felt stupid too for coming up with the most idiotic excuse, since her mug was still half-full.

"I'm not staying, just grabbed a coffee and leaving straightaway," he saved her, offering a way out to both. Though it was probably an excuse for him as well. "It was good to see you," he said with a half smile.

Alicia nodded. "It was good to see you too," she said, as she returned the smile with a more hesitant one.

Will nodded, mumbled something that she couldn't understand in the chaos of that place before turning to leave.

"Will!" She called him back. She did call him back. What the hell was she doing? She cursed at herself. Weren't they supposed to avoid each other? Wasn't this the aim – well, one of them – of all the latest fuzz? Will was probably thinking the same, seen by his confused gaze. He was staring at her, clearly waiting for her to say something.

Her mouth open, Alicia hesitated. Yet, it was a bit too late to step back without feeling – and looking like – a complete idiot. With a hand, she pointed at the seat in front of her. "I wouldn't mind some company, I have twenty more minutes before being due in court," she justified herself.

_Congratulations, Alicia. You left him, both personally first then professionally, took_ _away a few of his_ _associates and a few clients and now you make him feel like a "filler" for your spare time. Bravo, really._

But something in her gaze must have betrayed her, or fooled him. For Will didn't seem to read anything of it as he moved back and sat in front of her.

For a minute, maybe two, an absurd and embarrassing silence went along with the few furtive glances and slow sips of coffee.

"So… what's new?" Will finally broke the ice before it could freeze the whole Starbucks, starting from their own coffees.

Alicia shrugged. "Nothing, really…" Except we just acquired your ex-client. "We're searching for a bookkeeper," she joked.

"Is that supposed to be a job offer?" Will played along with an amused smile.

 _What?_  Alicia burst into laughter.  _We're searching for a bookkeeper?_ How in the world had she come out with that? "Might be… are you good with accounting and balance sheets?"

Will winced. "Uhm… not really, but if you are desperate I can send you my résumé anyway," he said with a shrug and an amused smile.

Alicia nodded in approval. "Sure, I'm in charge of job interviews," she joked, giving him a knowing look that she quickly masked with loud laughter. She looked down at her mug, in the hope Will wouldn't notice she was lightly blushing.  _Gosh, what am I doing? I'm not flirting, am I? No, this is just an innocent and funny conversation between two old friends._ Her smile quickly faded away as she realized that, for the millionth time, they were breaking their sort of pact. In moments like these, sitting quietly in a cafe, relaxed, having idle chatter and some genuine laughter, she found herself doubting some of the choices she had made. As she looked up at Will, she met his clouded eyes.

"So you got Spaulding?" He asked, severe.

She looked down and shook her head in apology. "I… I'm sorry," she shrugged. What could she say? It wasn't like she had gotten in touch with the client herself. It all happened a couple of days before. "It's one of Cary's acquisition and…"

"Cary?" Will asked.

He seemed confused, but she had no idea why. Would it make any difference if it was hers or Cary's? A lost client was a lost client.

"Yes, but… Will… I would never undermine Lockhart & Gardner… not intentionally," she said with a tone that, she hoped, wouldn't leave any hint of doubt as to her honesty.

Will stared at her, motionless, silent. What was he thinking? She would have paid to know it, but didn't dare to even ask. Eventually, he nodded in what looked like acknowledgement. Still, she knew him well enough to know that he wasn't totally convinced. And she didn't know if he was doubting her, Cary, or someone else. The only sure thing was that he looked definitely thoughtful. She waffled back and forth as to dig into it or just let it go. "You okay?" She finally dared to ask.

Will's answer was a smile she knew all too well. Soft, reassuring, yet in contrast with the sad, concerned expression of his eyes. "I have to go now," he almost whispered.

Their little moment was gone, killed by the complications that leaving the firm was supposed to wipe out but only seemed to amplify instead. She could only nod, as he stood.

"Good luck with your trial," he wished her before leaving.

"Thank you," she smiled and nodded. One more long sip of coffee took her company as she watched him leave, this time for real.


	8. Chapter 8

The pub on Milwaukee Avenue was rather crowded for a Thursday night. The strong smell of scotch would have been inviting on a different occasion, when all he needed was to numb his mind and drown the troubles of the day. But tonight he wasn't going to be alone, and needed to be sober and very clear minded. Kalinda would join him any moment, so he settled for a more harmless Guinness instead.

His mind replayed the events of the day. Specifically, the meeting with Diane and Gary. He had spent the day pondering what to do with the piece of information he was given. Kalinda and that investigator, Aline Cooper, had worked together for a few months at the SA's office, under Peter. It had been years ago, but still… it was the connection he hoped they'd never have. And Diane's accusatory look had left him no other choice than to try to finagle some information out of her. Not an easy task with Kalinda. She was a master at skipping out on interrogations. Where did this piece of evidence put her? Friend or foe? Ally or backstabber? In a moment of his life when the meaning of the word  _trust_  was brutally called into question, he couldn't afford himself to doubt the only person left – besides Diane – whose loyalty was never questioned.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a familiar, luscious and dark figure approaching and taking a seat next to him and he cast a brief glance at the woman. She didn't look back. With her eye-catching appearance and the hint of a smile, she quickly managed to draw the bartender's attention and pointed at the bottle of scotch in his hands. She wasn't clearly overthinking the effects of alcohol like he did.

"So… what did the IT guy search for you that I couldn't?" she asked with put up indifference, her gaze fixed in front of her, apparently intent reading the labels of the long show of liquors on the glass shelf.

_Busted._

He considered going straight to the point. No. It would sound accusatory and he didn't want her to feel mistrusted when there still was a chance that she might not be. "We lost some clients," he said with a light shrug.

Kalinda nodded, her gaze shifting between the glass in front of her and the quick, skilled gestures of the busy bartender.

Dithering would go nowhere with her. He inhaled deeply, took a long sip of beer, then threw out the question, with the most casual tone, staring at her. "Do you know their investigator?"

He caught the shadow of an unclear something in the way she looked back at him, but chose for once to trust words more than looks and waited patiently – and with a bit of worry – for her reaction.

"Aline? Yes," she answered, nonchalantly, with a light nod.

She looked and sounded candid. For what Kalinda Sharma could look and sound  _candid_ , in the first place. But she must have caught something herself. Maybe his subconscious leaked some of the seed of suspect that Diane had instilled in his already brooding mind. Because the look she gave him after a brief musing wasn't exactly a warm one.

"Are you trying to tell me I'm suspected of undercutting Lockhart & Gardner?"

For someone who loved to play hide and seek with information, she was quite unambiguous and definitely blunt. And he didn't find the courage to look at her. He just winced, his stare fixed on his bottle of beer. If her displeased, a bit offended face wasn't a well-played masquerade aimed to fool him, good chances were that she wasn't the person they were gunning for. His first instinct was likely right. But on the other hand, he kept wondering what had kept her there, in a moment when she had all the interest to leave with Alicia and Cary.

"Why did you stay?" he asked, a bit confused. He was realizing only now that he really never asked before. It was a thought that didn't cross his mind before tonight.

Kalinda shrugged. "Isn't that what friends do? Stay when everyone else leaves?" A raised brow, she didn't look at him. Her gaze was still fixed on the bottles. To an inattentive eye, they would probably look like two complete strangers.

Will winced and nodded his acknowledgement. Of course. He was feeling stupid – and a bit guilty – for doubting her loyalty. Still, the problem remained. If not Kalinda… who else?

"Someone's helping them to poach our best clients," he said, unable to hide his concern. He was still trying to perk up after losing Spaulding.

"Lawyers…" Kalinda sighed, sounding a bit frustrated. "Always searching for quibbles, clauses and long, twisted ways."

What was wrong with lawyers? And what was she talking about? He gave her a confused, questioning look.

"In a couple of weeks Peter might be elected as Governor of Illinois," she said, matter-of-factly, as she looked straight at him.

Will scowled lightly at that name. With Alicia still constantly in the back of his mind, this was something he'd rather not be reminded. If things were hard now, his election would probably be the last nail in the coffin of his relationship – of any kind – with Alicia. The complications would reach a whole new level. Maybe it was better that she had left, after all. But this was at the same time the wake-up call of what could be about to happen.

"You're underestimating the influence of political power."

Truth be told, he wasn't underestimating it. He was smoothing under it. The difference was significant. He'd rather only see the bright side; Peter's election would mean a new State's Attorney.

"I never doubted you," he said, trying to hide his sense of guilt.

"You did," Kalinda reproached him. But her light smile and knowing look, as she stood to leave, told him that she wasn't going to hold it against him.

He gestured for the bartender to pour him some scotch, loosened his tie a bit, then took a deep breath, inhaling the savor of its strong, burning taste. Alone, but not lonely. He could finally relax and benumb the thoughts and feelings that kept on crushing him.


	9. Chapter 9

Alicia's cellphone rang loudly, resounding in the utter silence of her apartment, and woke her up with a start. She quickly grabbed it to make the frightening ringtone stop. "Hello," she answered, her voice between scared and sleepy, while her heart beat wildly for the abrupt wake-up. She threw a quick glance at the clock while the voice on the other end answered. It was past eleven.

"Hey, Alicia, it's me, sorry, I know it's late."

_Peter._

The glass of red wine left abandoned on the coffee table, still half-full; the photos of the Madsen case scattered all over between the table and the couch; she had probably fallen asleep, collapsed under an amount of working hours she wasn't used to anymore. The partnership at L&G had given her more responsibilities, but also the chance to unload on to others a considerable mass of work. A boss benefit that she had now lost, in spite of the name partnership. Because right now, with the still limited human resources, there was really precious little that could be smartly redistributed if they wanted to make their mark. There was no such thing as boss privilege. Actually, it was a gigantic rip-off, since she and Cary seemed to be the ones always ending up working the latest hours.

"Hey, Peter, what's up?" she asked, a bit concerned by the late call.

"I just wanted to ask you if tomorrow, when you come to court, can you pop in for a moment. With Eli we just finished reviewing some points of the speech and I'd love to hear your thoughts," he said.  _The press conference_. His voice, throaty and spent, was a clear sign that he was exhausted too. A couple more days and the press conference would be over. This one at least. Because there would be more in the following days. This campaign seemed to go on forever. Thankfully, in a couple of weeks, everything would go back to normal. Or would it?

_Normal._

In her mind, the same word kept echoing, on and on.  _Springfield_.

Like a sort of taboo, neither her nor Peter had so far dared to discuss the ramifications that his election would bring with it. Move? Not move? The kids? The school? And what about her newborn firm? Springfield was more than a three hour drive from Chicago. Which excluded the chance of a daily commute. Alicia knew that the answer to all these questions was already there, somewhere inside of her, but she wasn't just ready to externalize it. Not yet. Maybe, deep down in her heart, she thought that maybe Peter's win wasn't yet to take for granted. If he lost, things would remain the same. Would it be a good thing? Or a bad one? She honestly didn't know. But his election would force them to face their future in a definitive way, giving back the contour to a marriage that for too long had been hanging in the balance, parked in a blurred and undefined limbo. And the idea of not knowing what road the future life would take scared her a little. She had just given a fresh new start to a career. She wasn't sure she was ready for more fresh starts right now.

"Sure, no problem," she said, as she rubbed her face to try and recover a bit of lucidity, enough to recollect the next day's agenda. "I have the trial at 10:00am, I can come over half an hour before if it's okay for you," she whispered, drawling a bit.

"It would be perfect," Peter said, whole-heartedly, "it won't take long, it's just a couple of points." Then, he hesitated a moment. "You okay? Did I wake you up?"

"No," she reassured him, with a shake of her head. Well, technically he did. "I was working on a case," she said, as she started to gather all the pictures, one by one, very slowly, and put them back in the folder. She was so tired that her eyes were refusing to work any further. She had the time to review the files the next morning, before leaving. For now, she was dead tired, her mind already dreaming of her comfortable mattress and her wraparound soft sheets.

"So… not yet getting used to being the boss?" Peter joked.

 _The boss_. It still sounded so weird.  _The boss_. She had to repeat it to herself now and then, so that she could get acquainted with the idea.

"Can you ever get used to being the boss?" She asked back with the same joking tone. Rhetorical question of course, since leadership had always been woven into Peter's genes. She still wasn't completely sure if it was the same for her. Ambitious? Totally. Leading? Maybe.

"You'll come to love it with time," he reassured her.

Truth be told, she already loved it. Every time she rode the elevator up to the eight floor and the doors slid open to the golden sign with her name, she felt a pride, a satisfaction never felt before; the boast of saying "I did it." Even if the motives that led her here weren't truly of a professional nature. But that didn't matter. Not anymore. Now more than ever, she felt that putting distance between her and Will had been the right thing.

"By the way…" Peter started again, then paused. "There is something else I wanted to tell you," he finally said. His tone, now serious and undecided, made her worry a bit.

"What happened?"

_Silence._

She heard him groan lightly, then sigh. "In another moment maybe, it's not the right time now."

This wasn't making her feel any better. On the contrary, it just increased her concern even more. "Peter? What's up? Should I worry?"

"No no no," he reassured her. "There is really nothing to worry about, babe. Go and sleep now, you sound tired."

"You should too," she reproached him, lightly. She was pretty sure he was still in that damn bus with the speech in front of him, reviewing it for the millionth time, right as they were talking.

"Yeah, I should… See you tomorrow."

"Okay, night," she said, then hung up. She gave a quick look around to make sure she hadn't misplaced any of the pictures, then closed the folder carefully. The glass was too tempting to leave it there and not drink it. With no hesitation, she took it and sipped slowly what remained of the wine and closed her eyes, as her mind went back, a bit pensively, to Peter's words. Whatever it was, if it could wait, it wasn't probably anything she should worry about.


	10. Chapter 10

Was there something more of a hassle than an unexpected last-minute lunch obligation? On his way to the restaurant, Will thought that no, there wasn't. But if it involved meeting a potential new client, then so be it. In this moment, they needed income and billable hours, the latter leading to the former. He was thankful that there were still people loyal to Lockhart & Gardner's good name more than to the political convenience of Florrick, Agos & Associates. Because that was what it was about, in the end.

Speaking on the phone with Diane, he considered that for the day he already had enough on his plate. Another client was leaving. One of the first clients Eli brought in, almost two years ago.

"You know what that means, right?" Diane asked with a built calmness that betrayed her concern. Things weren't going as bad as expected. They were going even worse.

He sighed. Yes, he knew what that meant. Eli was still with them, yes. But for how long? Diane was working her most flattering, professionally charming, and coaxing ways on him. If there was someone able to run with the hares and hunt with the hounds, that person was her. Will knew that she could be more convincing than him, and honestly, it's not like he and Eli ever shared an idyllic relationship. And for quite evident reasons. For eight good months, Will had been his pain in the ass. Probably even longer, he suspected.

"Yeah, I know," he confirmed with resignation. Eli starting to move his contacts wasn't a good sign. Not that he was expecting anything different. Actually, he had been surprised that he just didn't leave since the very beginning. Though, he was probably taken aback, and caught completely off-guard, by a choice – Alicia's choice – that nobody seemed to have seen coming.

He thought back to the previous night's talk with Kalinda, as with hurried steps he walked to the restaurant. Sometimes he tended to underestimate how law and politics walked hand in hand. And very often, they did it at his expense.

"I have to go now, meeting with that client," he excused himself.

"Don't let him get away," Diane spurred him on.

Stopping in front of the restaurant, he was momentarily nonplussed. He'd been here a couple of times with Alicia. One of those few times when  _lunch_  was really a lunch. A quiet place, far enough from the SA's building to elude the constant comings and goings of lawyers and federals. And with a couple of very reserved tables that made it pleasantly easy to combine lunch with some warm effusion. The memory was a bit distracting. Finally, he made up his mind, walked in, then started to peek around. He had no idea how the man he was about to meet looked like.

"Mr. Gardner?"

A deep voice made him turn around. A man in his fifties, maybe more. He had to be his client. "Mr. Anderson?" he asked in confirmation.

"Thank you for accepting to meet me with such short notice," he apologized as he shook his hand. Will noticed a brown, anonym envelope under his arm.

"Don't mention it," he reassured the man. Short notice was an understatement. His call had reached him less than a couple of hours before. "What can I do for you?" He asked, as they both took a seat at the reserved table.

"I… have a problem with my old lawyer," the man started, with some hesitancy.

"Okay," Will nodded. "What kind of problem?"

Looking lost in thought, the man seemed unsure. With a reassuring look, Will encouraged him to go on.

"I suspect he might have leaked some confidential information," he finally said.

 _Damn_.

Confidentiality leak was one of the most tricky accusations. It was never easy to define where the leak ended and the wringing started. It was hard to prove and even harder to negate. Unless it involved written – or in any other incontrovertible way - evidence, it was in most of the cases a my-word-against-yours' matter. That was the reason why lawsuits for confidentiality breach were quite rare. Who'd take the risk of investing money in a trial with these premises? Only a firm as desperate as his own. He'd rather take this over nothing.

He nodded, as he took a moment to gather his considerations in a way that would be easily understandable for his client. "Mr. Anderson, before you make any decision, I feel the need to advise you on something." In a moment when he was supposed to be completely selfish, even a bit unethical, he preferred to be completely honest with this man. "Proving that someone has disclosed confidential information is not easy to do, it's not a forgone conclusion. You talk about suspect, not about absolute certainty. And if it was the lawyer that disclosed the information, it's going to be even harder to prove. You have to be sure, because once you're in, you can't step back anymore."

The man looked down, thoughtfully and stared at the brown envelope lying on the table, yet tight in his hands. "Okay, my client is sure," he said as he looked up and nodded, confidently, tapping on the envelope.

 _His client_? Which client? What was he talking about? Will gave him a confused, completely puzzled look. He though  _he_  was the client.

"I… I'm not sure I understood… aren't you the client?" Will asked. He was clearly missing something, he just didn't know what.

"Actually no, Mr. Gardner, but he hired me to deliver you a message," he said with a light smile.

Will gulped. There was nothing good, neither in his words, nor in his smirk. Suddenly, he had a bad feeling. A very bad one.

"You've been served, Mr. Gardner," the man said, putting the envelope in Will's hands.

No. No. No.

No.

This couldn't be true.

It was a nightmare, certainly caused by something he ate the previous night.

The man stood up, as Will remained there, speechless, still trying to understand what had just happened.

_This can't be true._

Setting the sudden and unwelcome panic aside, he did the only wise thing he could do under the circumstances. He quickly opened the envelope and scanned the papers for the basic information. Miss Rebecca Thompson. The name sounded somewhat familiar, but he couldn't say why. Was she a client? Not that he could remember. Searching deep into his mind, he started to go back in time, lingering on every memory, even the most insignificant ones, till one in particular made him stop rewinding his life. May 2012. Or maybe June? It didn't matter. It was during his suspension. Why in the world was she suing him? He checked the deadline. It was in two weeks.

He had two weeks to remember what had happened and if he had possibly leaked something. Not an easy task since the calendar had made a whole 365 days turn from then. He threw the papers on the table in frustration and took his head in his hands, defeated.

_It'll never end._


	11. Chapter 11

It was an unusually quiet afternoon. Or at least, it would have been under different circumstances. Sitting in her office, a folder open but uncared-for on her desk, Alicia kept replaying in her mind the alarming conversation she had that morning with Peter, her gaze lost somewhere outside the still featureless, alien view of her window.

Legal problems at Lockhart & Gardner.

She couldn't get rid of that eerie thought.

" _It's unofficial. Very unofficial, actually. But I thought that… you know… maybe you wanted to know it."_

Her heart had stopped and her blood had frozen at the news. She suspected that Peter knew more than just this, but probably wasn't allowed to share it. And now she understood why he preferred not to disclose it the night before. The last thing she needed was a new source of anxiety and a restless night before an important trial.

And she had a very bad feeling about who the person in trouble might be.

Now, with her phone in her hand, her thumb was lingering with indecision on the green button. Should she call Will? The most impulsive and less rational side of her pressed her that yes, she should call and check how he was doing. But her good sense retorted that no, it wasn't the right time. And it probably wouldn't be appropriate. As her impulse was about to win and her finger was about to start the call, a pang of lucidity made her rethink it for the umpteenth time.

A confidential bit of information and, first of all,  _very unofficial_ , in Peter's own words. What could she tell him anyway? Maybe he wasn't even the one in trouble. Or even worse, maybe he was but still didn't know it. But then again, why would Peter feel the need to share it if it wasn't  _him_?  _Damn_. No, calling him now would be the most stupid idea ever.

She put the phone back down on her desk, as Will's name was still beckoning her from the lit display, in a tempting way.

A light knock on the doorjamb put a definite end to her indecisiveness. She looked up at the man standing in front of her and gave him a questioning look.

"Mrs. Florrick?" He asked, with a hint of hesitancy.

"Yes," she confirmed, a bit taken aback by the unexpected intrusion. "May I help you, Mr…?" She asked quizzically, as with a light gesture she invited him to introduce himself.

"I'm Mr. Anderson," he said.

_Who?_

"We spoke yesterday by phone," he went further and explained, probably catching her blank reaction.

Oh, yes. That lawyer. Damn. What did he want from her now? She thought she'd been pretty clear the day before, when she told him, twice – very politely, because one can never know - that they didn't need his services. They still planned to hire four associates, yes, but they were already somewhat preempted due to financial constraints, so far. She and Cary couldn't risk hiring sight unseen. And she knew nothing of this man. She considered calling Cary for support, since her kind refusal clearly didn't hit the mark. Maybe two noes were more effective than one. But eventually, she chose to handle the situation by herself.

"Oh, Mr. Anderson, yes," she nodded with a set smile. "What can I do for you again?"

"I won't steal too much of your time, I promise," he said, as he walked in with hurried steps and a wide smile, and took a seat across from Alicia. In his hands, a black hat and a brown envelope.

If there was something Alicia knew, it was that when people said they weren't stealing too much time, they were indeed. And even if on one hand she was annoyed by this man's presence, at least it kept her mind busy, preventing her from musing, imagining, racking her brains about what was possibly going on at Lockhart & Gardner and in Will's life. Because the more time she spent thinking about it, the worse the scenario would grow in her mind.

"Is it about the conversation we had yesterday, Mr. Anderson?" She asked, just to get an idea of what she was headed for.

"Uhm, let's say, yes," he said, with a brooding look.

Alicia sighed inwardly, and sat back, leaning against the back of her chair in a sort of resignation. "Okay," she said, giving in to the idea that she wasn't going to get rid of him quite easily. "So, why should I hire you? Aside from the fact that you clearly are a dogged and strong-willed person."

The man stared at her for a moment, reflectively, probably searching for an answer. "What do you think are the qualities of a good lawyer?"

Alicia sighed, annoyed. If there was something she couldn't stand, it was being answered with a question. And she had no idea what kind of game he was playing. He called her twice, showed up at her office without an appointment, and now was playing cat and mouse? She breathed deeply, trying to keep her cool. "Are you trying to trick me into giving you the solution to my answer?"

Mr. Anderson laughed and shook his head. "Nothing like that, Mrs. Florrick. You don't need me, and you've been pretty clear about it. I'm just curious to know what qualifies a good lawyer has in your opinion."

_Okay. Give him an answer and send him the hell out of here._

She started to think. What distinguished a good lawyer? Her mind reviewed her four years at Lockhart & Gardner, with all its good and bad. "Righteousness, ethics, absolute respect for the client who should always come first, the shrewdness of knowing how to use every little, tiny cavil of the law without breaking it, there are many things, Mr. Anderson. Do you think you have at least those I listed?" She asked, with a bit of challenge, but she really didn't like the man. There was a slight meanness and arrogance in him, that she couldn't stand.

The man hesitated, gave her a light smirk. "Maybe not. Do you?"

She paused and pondered his question. "Yes," she said, showing off all her confidence and holding back with all her might a bit of hesitation.

"Good," Mr. Anderson said with a nod. "So I guess you have nothing to fear."

_Fear?_

Her face clouded in incomprehension.

"You've been served, Mrs. Florrick," Mr. Anderson said very quietly, as he let the envelope fall on her desk, then stood up and left.

She didn't even have the time to understand what he had just said, that he was already gone.

_You've been served._

_Oh my God._

She inhaled deeply, trying to contain the growing panic. Regaining some control, she did what seemed the most logical thing to do in that moment. She opened the envelope to check its content.

Rebecca Thompson.

_Rebecca Thompson?_

She tried to connect the name to a face, but as much as she tried, that name was completely unfamiliar.

Then a flash crossed her mind as she remembered what had been her thought for the whole day.

_Will._

With no hesitation this time, she grabbed the phone and quick-dialed his number. As she heard the connection on the other end, she didn't even give him the time to answer. "Who is Rebecca Thompson?"

She waited for an answer, impatiently, and possibly one she would like, or at least find acceptable. Instead, she heard him sigh, deeply. And it didn't sound good at all.

"We need to talk," Will said.


	12. Chapter 12

Will stood in front of his office window. It was late, that he was quite sure of - outside the sky was quickly darkening - but he didn't want to turn around to check the clock. His baseball in his hand, he kept throwing it, slowly, rhythmically, against the window. He hoped that the repetitive, monotone movement would send him into a sort of trance state, so he could get rid of that nagging thought that had been plaguing him ever since lunch.

_You've been served._

Chicago's view was a marvelous sight by night. A myriad of lights, traffic that never seemed to slow down. Underneath him, the moving cars looked like a flock of hundreds of fireflies.

His restless mind brought him back to the six months he had spent in suspension, to how much he had missed his office, and a mixture of pain and fear got hold of him. S _trike one_. If Rebecca really intended to accuse him of having disclosed some kind of confidential information – and he was pretty sure that this was the case – things could turn really bad. He couldn't allow it to happen. Not again. Not another suspension. S _trike two_. His hands got sweaty.  _Three strikes and you're out._  Alicia always used to poke fun at him for being a great pitcher but a poor batter.

_We need to talk._

How did he end up dragging her into his mess again? After being forced to depose in front of the Grand Jury, now she was probably being sued for something that  _he_  did instead. But maybe she wasn't. Maybe, with some luck, she was just called as a witness and not as a defendant.  _Luck_. It stopped hanging out around here long ago. Not to mention, he was starting to believe more in Murphy's law than in the common one.  _Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong_. It seemed to be the leitmotif of his life. And even if she was called to testify and nothing more than that, he was doomed anyway. She had backstabbed him once when she left the firm, what would stop her from doing it twice?

The appearance of a blonde reflection in the window's glass was the sign that the time had come to share this cumbersome mess with someone else. And that someone being his partner made it all the more difficult and unpleasant.

Still, he didn't move from his stance. And nor did the image. He carried on with his rhythmic game. It was relaxing, sort of. It allowed him, in this state of mind, to relax.

"What is it that you're not telling me?" The slow, but concerned voice of Diane interrupted his hypnotic-like state, as he held the ball tight in his hand.

He didn't know how to tell her.

For the second time, he was in trouble, serious trouble, for his inability to keep his testosterone and solitude at bay. There was no way Diane would take this nicely. Certainly not after he had risked losing everything for Alicia. Certainly not after Diane had warned him, actually invited him eloquently – and not so kindly – to stop it.

And for the second time, he was dragging Alicia down in his dirt. But if the first time they both knew the risks and had chosen to fly in their face, now it was a whole different story. Alicia had been, and still was, completely in the dark. And guilt fed guilt in a quickly growing tornado.

"On my desk," he gestured at Diane, pointing at the fateful envelope.

 _Coward. Not even the guts to tell her yourself_.

He searched for her reaction in her reflected image. He watched as she slid the papers out and skimmed through them, silently. He watched as she sighed, almost imperceptibly - but he was sure that she did – then slid the papers back into the envelope and on the desk. Not a single word.

For a minute, or maybe more, - he couldn't tell, for Diane's bloodcurdling silence seemed to have suddenly engulfed time – neither of the two dared to say anything.

His good sense told him that he should provide for some explanation, though he couldn't come up with any that would be close to acceptable. But his guilty conscience knew that whatever he'd say, Diane would nip any weak attempt in the bud.

This time, he had no excuses.

Finally, he mustered some courage, turned back and faced her. Her gaze fixed on him in a mix of worry, anger and complete let-down, one hand resting on his desk, probably to provide for some support, clearly more psychological than physical.

"What now?" she finally asked, almost in a whisper.

Will hesitated for a moment, mentally pondering which was the best way to tell her. "I might have leaked confidential information in a case."

" _Might_?" Diane asked with put-up confusion.

"I  _have_  leaked confidential information in a case," he corrected himself, defeated. What was the point in lying anyway? It would only make things sourer. _And s_ _ince I'm already in for a penny..._ "During my suspension," he added. With this, Diane would have the whole picture.

Diane cringed and looked away.

_Yes, now she has the whole picture._

"What do you expect me to say, Will?" Diane asked, with a tone that sounded very rhetorical.

And rightly so, Will thought. There wasn't really much he could say.

"I was…" He paused, words failing on him for a moment. "I was only trying to help Alicia with a difficult case," he said, in a miserable attempt to justify his actions. Not that this would make things any better. Actually, now that he thought about it, the mention of Alicia's name would probably make them even worse.

Indeed, he saw her tensing, lightly, and standing up straight. Without a word, she started to walk to the door. But as she reached the threshold, she suddenly stopped, looked down for a moment, then back at him.

"I guess you'll need a lawyer," she said, very simply.

"I guess I will," he said with a light nod, and a grateful smile that he'd rather keep within himself.


	13. Chapter 13

_We need to talk._

Damn if they didn't.

On the phone with Cary, Alicia was walking with a nervous pace, restlessly, from the living room to the kitchen and back again, over and over, unconsciously trying to keep the growing anxiety at bay as she waited for Will to ring her doorbell. How she ended up asking him to come over at her place to talk, it was something she was still trying to figure out. All she knew was that they needed a quiet, private place to discuss the subpoena. That basically excluded both their firms and any public place. And no way she could have this conversation at his place. She needed the stability of her own walls.

Neither her, nor Cary were really talking, but knowing that there was a friend on the other end, someone who was ready to give her his full support, who was keeping her some kind of company while she waited, was all she needed now. Being served was never a nice feeling. Even worse if you had no idea about what it was about.

"You'll end up wearing the floor out if you don't stop walking back and forth," Cary teased her.

She let out a light sigh and smiled, a bit bitterly. She didn't even realize that her breathing was probably escalating, growing by the minute together with her jitters and her stride.

"Isn't that an original way to start a new firm?" she joked back, trying to ease some of the tension.

"How does Agos and Associates sound?" Cary asked, with amusement.

"Not funny," she reproached him, with a half laugh.

The doorbell ring startled her.

_Will._

Her heart started to drum furiously. She didn't know what to expect from this confrontation. All she knew was that she wasn't going to like it.

"I'll call you back," she excused herself, politely, then hung up.

She hesitated a moment, inhaling deeply, then opened the door. The last time she had opened her home to Will, it had been under completely different circumstances. His gaze now, was not even remotely close to the one she had gotten used to seeing back when they were together. The last time she had let him in, she was pretty sure that they were already getting rid of their clothes before the door was even slammed closed behind them.

Why in the world did she ask him to come here? It was the stupidest thing she could have done.

"Hey," he dared to whisper.

She remained silent, and stepped aside, letting him in, as the light trail of his cologne made that memory all the more vivid and fresh in her mind.

She looked away to hide that moment of weakness.  _One of the many_.

Will stood in her living room and cast a quick, discreet glance at his surroundings. A mixed look of guilt and sorrow. And a shadow of something that - she couldn't say it for sure – was probably a flash, a fleeting memory. A moment of weakness.

Her arms folded in front of her, defensively, in a feeble attempt to look aloof, she stood there, silent, a few steps from him, her probing gaze asking for an explanation.

Only when Will moved and sat on her couch, his hands intertwined in front of him, she followed him back into the living room and sat down on the sofa.

"Who is Rebecca Thompson?" She asked, trying to look as calm as possible.

Will sighed. "Do you remember the Stanford/Wayne case?"

Alicia looked away thoughtfully. No. In four years she had way too many clients to remember all of them. She shook her head and shrugged, confused. "Should I?"

"It was during my suspension, Elizabeth Wayne was that young girl that sued Kaitlyn Stanford for publishing a book based on one of her fanfictions."

Alicia took a moment to recollect the facts. Lawsuits for publishing conflicts were growing by the day. She knew there had been more than one, but she remembered the name and she remembered that girl. Like she remembered that they had won that trial. She nodded, still unsure of where this was leading. "I remember that one," she confirmed with a confused look. "Stanford had taken Wayne's story and published it as her own work, but…" She couldn't really understand… "What has Mrs. Thompson to do with all of this?"

"She was Stanford's editor," Will explained.

Alicia noticed that his gaze, though fixed on her, was giving away some hesitation. For some reason, she sensed that there was still  _a lot_  that she didn't know. She shrugged her incomprehension. "I don't recall we ever called her to the stand."

"Because we didn't," Will said quietly, then looked down.

"I don't get it, Will… Why is she suing us?" She was struggling to keep her cool. Not easy under the circumstances. Even less easy with Will counting every word and giving away the information in fits and starts.

"Because she was the one who slipped the bit of information that Wayne was really the author of the original story… " Will sighed and looked away, thoughtfully, probably deep into trying to gather his ideas into a decent explanation. And hopefully one that would actually provide more-than-four-worded sentences. "She knew that Stanford stole the story because she had actually read Wayne's story before it was taken down from the fanfiction site for rating's infringement. Actually she had known since the very beginning."

"What does that mean? Why didn't we call her to the stand, then? She was a key witness and Stanford's editor. And they didn't use her as a witness either. I know we won anyway, but…"

"Because the piece of information was given… it was given under circumstances that would preclude her testimony," Will said, as his straight gaze told Alicia the hidden circumstances that words weren't.

_Circumstances that would preclude her testimony…._

It took her a moment to understand. It took her a moment to put two and two together. She closed her eyes, in a forlorn attempt to erase the image that had just formed in her mind.

"I can't believe it…" She finally whispered, as she stood up and started to flutter about, walk nervously back and forth in the living room, careful to avoid his gaze. "You… You slept with her?"

Will stood up. Probably more to avoid the uncomfortable feeling of Alicia towering over him than for a real need to stand up. Still, he didn't say anything.

If silence was telling, Alicia didn't need any admission. "Oh my God." She cringed and looked away. "You  _really_  slept with her?" She repeated, still trying to take in the news but at the same time wanting to get rid of the image that was now inexorably stuck in her mind.

Will stood straight, as his gaze slowly shifted from guilty to offended. "Then? What?" He asked, as he moved a couple of steps in her direction. "What, Alicia? I'm not allowed to sleep with someone now?"

His straight question crashed against Alicia's growing disappointment. They weren't talking about a whichever someone. They were talking about a _witness_. And disappointment was quickly turning into anger. So that was what it was about? That was what won her the trial? "How could you…" Words failed for a moment under the weight of her anger. ""How could you do something so… ridiculously dumb? How could you do it?" She attacked him.

"Do what, Alicia? Sleep with a woman? It's not like you and I were still together," he retorted, as his voice slightly rose in turn.

"She was a witness!" She was a damn witness. It was all that Alicia could think about. It was wrong. It was unethical. It was probably the only reason why she had a hanging subpoena on her table in the first place. And the thought of Will with that woman was… She shook her head, unable to get rid of that image.

"She wasn't, we never called her to the stand!" Will rebutted.

"Are we discussing details now?" She mocked him. Her voice calm in appearance, inside Alicia was a growing bundle of turmoil, ready to explode at any time. And Will moving closer to her just made it worse.

"Yes, we are, since you seem more upset by the fact that I slept with her than by the fact that I used the information for the trial," Will answered back.

And Alicia's sudden silence was the proof that he had hit the nail on the head. "This is ridiculous," she finally whispered, then moved away. His proximity was becoming unbearable. "You broke confidentiality!"

"And you won the trial," he said, calm outwardly.

"Am I supposed to thank you?" She asked, ironically.

Her question went by unanswered. Will just stared at her, silently. The hurt in his eyes reflected in her own. She would never admit it openly. But there was at least a shadow of truth in his words. The image of him with another woman was always painful and bitter to swallow. And the fact that she was the one constantly adding distance, obstacles and limits, building walls between them was a sort of self-inflicted hurt.

"Now you know everything you need," Will said, gravely, then turned and left, closing the door behind him and between them.

Suddenly alone, she sat back on the couch and started to take in all the things they had said – and had not said – in a few fraught minutes.


	14. Chapter 14

_**confidential**  /ˌkɒnfɪˈdɛnʃəl/adj_

_spoken, written, or given in confidence; secret; private_

_entrusted with another's confidence or secret affairs: a confidential secretary_

_suggestive of or denoting intimacy: a confidential approach_

_**breach**  /briːtʃ/n_

_a crack, break, or rupture_

_a breaking, infringement, or violation of a promise, obligation, etc_

_any severance or separation_

Whichever of the meanings of both words Will looked at, it didn't change or sound better. Actually, it looked even worse. He was a lawyer. He knew what those words meant, if put together.

Confidentiality was one of the first theoretical constructs you were imbued with as soon as you started to breathe law. Attorney-client, attorney-prosecution, attorney-attorney; confidentiality was a law of its own, that sometimes seemed made to throw a monkey wrench in lawyers' works instead of working in their favor. Tricky and deceitful, it protected anyone but the very lawyers by stating limits that, truth be told, weren't so defined as they should. How should a post-orgasm admission be handled? He was pretty sure there wasn't a law for that. There was a law regulating confidentiality for spouses, for relatives, for sexual relationships  _to a certain degree_. But as to the  _level_  of that degree, judgment was left to judges. It was their work after all. In all this mess, he silently thanked the heavens that at least Rebecca had an editorial career and not a military one. The thought of a trial with Colonel Kuhn made him cringe. He could have said adieu to his career before the trial had even started.

In the stillness of his apartment, Will was still trying to get a grip after the phone conversation with Rebecca. He needed to understand why she was suing him now, a whole year after their… encounter. In the end, it was all about money, some lost client and a woman's wounded pride. He suspected that the third played the biggest role, since she didn't really seem favorable to a settlement. Not to mention, Alicia's involvement looked like an additional and unmistakable indicator that probably added to the list of motives.

Jeans, shirt, a chilled beer and television on were usually the perfect mix for a relaxing night, but tonight they didn't seem to work. His bare feet on the coffee table, comfortably sprawled on the couch, he kept zapping listlessly from one channel to the other, faces and voices alternated on the screen in a rather amusing, nonsense combination of words that made him hint a smile. Till a familiar name caught his attention and the fun stopped abruptly. The umpteenth interview with the future Governor of Illinois. Or at least Will was hoping so. In the end, he only had everything to gain. The election night. He scowled. The date was oddly familiar. It was the day of the first hearing in court.  _The irony_ … One rise and one fall…

His phone rang on the table, sending an unpleasant vibration through all his body.

 _Diane_.

He turned the volume down, then sat straight and took the phone, as the background figure of Alicia popped up on the screen, causing him to stutter. "… Hello," he said, his gaze fixed on the screen, as their fight from a couple of days before suddenly made its way back into his thoughts.

"Hey, Will, it's me… You have a moment to discuss the case?" She asked, decidedly. Even at this late hour and with the whole day upon her shoulders, her voice, ringing and confident, didn't give away even the slightest shadow of weariness. The power of a clean conscience?

"Sure…"

"I just need more details," Diane asked, very quietly.

With his attention still partly stolen by the television, it took him a moment to react to her words.

_Details._

Details of what? He took a long sip of beer and swallowed it, together with his slight discomfort. "What… which kind of  _details_?"

"Your conversation with Mrs. Thompson, anything new that you managed to remember," Diane explained.

He exhaled in relief. For a moment, he had thought she wanted… well, another kind of details. A kind that he certainly would never have the moxie to share with his female partner.

But as for that old conversation… if it was true that men's and women's selective memories worked in a different way, he was doomed. Rebecca probably remembered every single word that was pronounced that night. Unlike him. The memory was still vague, blurry. Over the last days he had managed to put together bits of conversation, fragments of memories, but nothing significant enough to be considered as a valid argument for a defense. He remembered her saying something about loving the original story more than her client's, his confusion that turned into shock as he realized that Alicia's client was right; he even remembered the name of the site where the story was published, because he had never heard the word  _fanfiction_  before that day and had found it funny, though very eloquent. But the only thing he should remember was the only thing that he couldn't; if the information was given with the plea to keep it confidential, or if it was just that, a confidence accidentally slipped without too much thinking. Because to a jury and to his defense, it would make a remarkable difference. But Rebecca probably didn't know either. He could bluff. He could pretend to remember things that he in fact didn't. It would be his word against hers. After all, it wasn't like someone had witnessed their moment. He could swear that she never mentioned it being a confidential bit of information. If he wanted, he could easily lie and turn it against her. Yet… he could lie to a woman he couldn't care less about but not to the woman waiting on the other end. He couldn't force himself to add lies to the lies.

"Nothing new," he murmured, letting out a resigned sigh, as his head fell heavily, back against the couch. With all the dirt he did in the past, he had chosen the most ill-timed moment to let his conscience and good sense prevail. On the other end, there was complete silence. "Diane?"

"I'm here… thinking," she answered. She sighed in clear frustration, then fell silent again for an indefinite while. "Why do you always end up like this?" She finally asked.

"Because I like to have you as my lawyer," Will joked, in the attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

"Speaking of…" Diane started, then halted.

Hesitant Diane was something he was not used to. "What?"

"Alicia asked me to represent her as well," she let out, hastily. "I accepted."

_Oh._

"I assumed she'd go with someone from her firm…" He said, baffled.

"I thought the same, but she must have reputed it wasn't the best option… I'm meeting her tomorrow at lunch to check her version of the facts," she informed him, matter-of-factly.

Not that he had any say in the matter… "Okay," he nodded, his lips drawn into a straight line.

Another load of shit that was about to be thrown in his face. Perfect end of the day.


	15. Chapter 15

Alicia sat at the small round table in the restaurant, tapping nervously on the champagne cotton tablecloth, as she waited for Diane's arrival. From the quiet corner, her gaze kept shifting, fidgety, between the front door and the clock. Without reason really, because she was well early for their meeting.

She felt a slight discomfort.

Aside from the brief, awkward phone conversation they shared the day before, she hadn't really talked with her former boss since the day she had left Lockhart & Gardner, a few weeks before. Was it her sense of guilt, the lack of real occasions or of fortuitous encounters, was it that they were both too busy keeping their respective firms afloat, or was it that Diane knew that her betrayal had little to do with the firm and a lot to do with escaping. Diane's overprotectiveness of Will was no secret, especially when it came to their restive, unrequited feelings for each other. So was her let down for Cary's and her decision to leave.

But even if she'd never been particularly in Diane's graces – it didn't take a genius to see it - she trusted her as a lawyer, and as a human being, more than she'd ever trust anyone else. And that was what had led her to the decision to choose her over any associate of Florrick, Agos & Associates.

The trill of the front door's bell made her look up. And there she was. Alicia waved lightly to catch the woman's attention and hinted an inkling of a smile as Diane acknowledged her presence and started to walk towards their table.

"Alicia," Diane greeted her with a light nod, as she took her coat off and sat in front of her.

"Diane," she greeted her back, suddenly uncomfortable.

"So," Diane started, breaking immediately the thin layer of ice, "how is it… running a firm?"

"It's… hard," Alicia smiled. "Fulfilling and consuming at the same time," she added with a light nod. She carefully avoided mentioning that it was onerous and damn costly too. Diane probably knew it better than her; after all her firm had been on the verge of bankruptcy once and was probably navigating dangerous waters again, now that a bunch of key clients had moved their interests outside L&G. And far from her the thought of giving Diane a weak image of her and Cary's firm.

Diane stared at her. Her severe gaze clashed with the shadowed smile on her face. "It never gets better," she said calmly. "The more you grow, the more responsibilities drag you down and don't let you sleep at night." Those words could have sounded daunting, deterrent, aimed to unnerve. But her voice, quiet, almost toneless, softened them into friendly advice that Alicia simply took in with a pensive stare.

Still, there was a word to the wise that didn't get lost on Alicia. She had jumped ship, taking a leap in a new adventure for reasons that, as much as she tried to disguise them, weren't exactly career-related. "I think we should talk about the case," she said, moving the discussion to the real motives behind this lunch before the conversation could turn on a topic they both would rather dodge.

Diane nodded and closed her hands in front of her. "I won't take too much of your time," she started, "because I already know all I need about that case, I skimmed through the dossier for the necessary information. But Mrs. Thompson will make it about Will having used confidential information for his benefit and I need your version of the facts."

She still had a vivid memory of that case. When Miss Wayne had knocked at Lockhart & Gardner's door, - it seemed like an eternity had elapsed since then – it was a couple of weeks before she ended things with Will. She struggled to hold back the lump in her throat. In the same way, she remembered that by the time the trial was over, he was in his second month of suspension. She didn't know what was more painful between having to relive the nice moments and the bad ones. They both hurt, though in their own different way. As she started to recall the fateful conversation that led them here, one thought crossed her mind for the first time. She clouded, as she realized what a guilty verdict might mean for Will. She glanced at Diane, musingly, concerned. "What would happen to him?" She whispered.

Diane didn't move from her stance, except for an almost imperceptible stretch of her fingers. She shrugged, but never broke eye contact as she mentioned the possible consequences.

Not that Alicia needed it. She was a lawyer, she knew the consequences. But inwardly, she felt the need to hear them said out loud, she felt the need to make them real, to force herself to face the fact that whatever she'd say, it would affect him.

"Another suspension… disbarment… It depends," Diane explained, grievously. "Some judges adopt the three strikes rule."

Alicia's eyes closed instinctively, tightly, to wash the image away. Three strikes. She was pretty sure that Will wouldn't find that sport parallel funny. Not at all.

"I need the truth, Alicia," Diane encouraged her, probably catching her sudden hesitation, "the plain, simple truth. Everything you say is covered by client-attorney privilege and you know it, so… I know that it's tempting to lie, but you have to be honest with me," she invited her, softly yet resolute.

Alicia sighed and looked away for a moment, trying to lay the memories out, to sort the fragments of that conversation in a fluid, coherent whole.

"I was… I felt like I was up a creek without a paddle with the case," she started, as defiant images from those days flashed in front of her, "I remember discussing it with Will… to the extent that his suspension allowed him to, of course, he never… he never gave any explicit counsel," she hastened to say. It wouldn't change the facts, but it was at least something he couldn't be charged with. "And I remember that we couldn't find a way out because without Wayne's story online we couldn't prove anything… The original file wasn't accepted as proof in the trial because some details like the creation date could be easily modified by anyone with decent technological skills… A couple of days later…" She paused, suddenly pensive… A couple of days later… She grimaced, striving to get rid of a feeling she had no right to feel. Not anymore. "He came to me, and… he asked me if I knew what happened to stories that got taken down from the site for policy infringement, like a misleading rating, that maybe they were stored somewhere. Because we had always assumed they were just… deleted… I guess." They had lost months on what they had, when in fact they should have delved more into what they  _didn't_  have. "Instead, it emerged that the site administration had a sort of back-up archive that kept a copy of all the loaded or deleted files for 5 years from the publishing date. And that's how I had found it."

Diane just stared at her, nodding lightly, repeatedly. "Did you ask him how… how he came up with that idea?"

"No," she shook her head. "I always assumed he came up with that on his own."  _How naïve_.

Diane sat back and sighed, looking away, thoughtfully.

"What did he say?" Alicia finally dared to ask. She needed to know, to be reassured that his anger at her wasn't somewhat numbing or influencing his memories.

"The same… give or take a word or two," Diane said.

Alicia nodded, her gaze fixed on her fingers, engaged in a dance of nerves. Both her and Will would have good reasons to claim their absolute innocence and throw blame at each other. Despite her still fresh betrayal being breeding ground for spite, Will didn't seem to let his anger steer him. She didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad one actually. But she couldn't bring herself to say something, anything in front of the jury that might confirm his guilt. Not even when she had every interest in protecting herself, too. A new career, Peter's campaign. Her stained image would inevitably have negative repercussions on Peter's public image too.

"I should go now," Diane excused herself, very politely.

"Yes, me too…" Alicia said, with a light smile, as she half nodded in acknowledgement at Diane.

"I'll contact you a couple of days before the hearing, if nothing changes in the meantime," Diane said, then left.

Left alone, she peeped around at the people quietly enjoying their lunches around her; some of them silent, some others busy in idle chatter.

She didn't want to testify. She didn't want to admit in front of a jury that yes, he did what he was charged with. And still, she had no choice.


	16. Chapter 16

There was one thing that Will had learned about Kalinda long ago; she had an innate talent for downplaying and for poking fun at his screw-ups without him getting offended. Even when his career was at stake.

The investigator's sneering voice accompanied him on his way to the SA's building for a trial session.

"You read too many fanfictions," Kalinda joked with him.

The only one he had ever read in his whole life, the one from Alicia's client, was still stuck in his mind. Though for reasons that really had nothing to do with the trial, neither the old nor the new one.

"Or I don't read enough of them," he laughed, for what that was worth, regardless of everything else.

Will Gardner wasn't a ruing soul. He never had been. He had taken everything that life had given him, good or bad, made mistakes, paid for them, and took responsibility for his own actions. But Rebecca Thompson was definitely something to repent. There were so many better ways he could have spent the night. Reading would have made a much better option. Definitely.

"Maybe you wouldn't be in trouble now," she teased him, facetiously.

He couldn't really contest that one, could he? "Can you remind me why you are still working at Lockhart & Gardner?" He asked in faux intimidation.

"'Cause the pay at Florrick, Agos & Associates would suck," she promptly retorted.

"I admire your lack of interest."

"I love having to run to save your ass."

Will tried but failed to suffocate the laughter. There was a thick layer of truth behind those words, which held good for both sides.

"I have to go now, talk to you later," he politely dismissed her as he reached the foot of the familiar stairs.

In all the recent chaos, he was thankful that there was always someone ready to get a smile out of him. He walked up the stairs, his briefcase in his hand. Ten more minutes before the trial. Ten more minutes to brush up on the impressive closing argument that would win him the non-guilty verdict for his client. But he had barely walked up a few steps when he noticed two all too familiar figures walking down, along with a third – and unknown - female one.

The other half of the mutineer's team, the other mind behind the existence of Florrick, Agos & Associates. The half whom, so far, he didn't have to deal with. The half towards whom he felt some kind of disdain for his betrayal. Though only up to a certain degree. Now that Cary was in front of him, he realized how different it was to have to face him than to have to face Alicia. The minor letdown was not enough of a feeling to create resentment and bitterness. Not by a long shot.

What really bothered him instead was the man standing by Cary's side. Spaulding. His golden goose. Will was still wondering how he had the audacity of moving his interest to the newborn firm after all that he did for him. He had personally saved his ass in court at least three times. Or maybe four. The guy's passion for speed and convertible cars and his equal passion for alcohol and women had cost him a lot of hassle. So much that Will was still asking himself how did he manage to get off in the last trial with a simple, though astronomical, fine. As much as Will appreciated both alcohol and fast cars, but he knew very well that the two just couldn't go along together. Spaulding was an asshole. A very rich asshole. A combination that held an overpowering attraction on every lawyer. So it shouldn't surprise him that Cary had lunged on the man like a vulture. For how long had they courted him? And most important, how did they get him to leave the stability of a firm - and of a lawyer - who never disappointed him? Not that it mattered anymore.

Will didn't look away, his gaze was fixed on his blonde ex-associate, with defiance and a bit of arrogance. And in that moment, he noticed that neither Cary's nor Spaulding's gazes were triumphal. Actually, Spaulding seemed rather pissed. The vindictive, meanest part of himself gloated and smiled slyly. Those looks could only mean one thing.  _Payback_. He made a mental note to send Kalinda on an expedition as soon as he was finished with his session. A jailed Spaulding would be equivalent to a self-undercut for the young firm and to a lost client for Cary. Because Spaulding was an asshole, not a complete idiot.

He stopped one step below them. The height deficit was irrelevant in that moment. The satisfaction at seeing those faces, who tried but failed to hide the disappointment, was more than enough to compensate that handicap.

"Will…" Cary greeted him. His eyes, usually lightly squinted by a brownnoser-looking smile, didn't hide a bit of embarrassment for the clearly unexpected encounter. Neither did Will try to hide a hint of a grudge. Maybe, but only maybe, if Cary didn't support Alicia's choice, maybe she would have rethought her decision to leave. Maybe she would still be working at Lockhart & Gardner. Maybe.

"Cary…" Will greeted him back, with a light nod. "Bryan," he smiled at his ex-client, "long time no see," he said with a smile. If there was a chance to win his client back, he'd better be very polite. "Coming out of a trial session?" he asked, rhetorically, because it was obvious. He glanced quickly, very discreetly, at the blonde woman. He was pretty sure she was Kalinda's friend, their new investigator. What was her name?

"Yes," Cary nodded. "I don't think you know our new investigator yet, Miss Aline Cooper."

 _Aline_. Sure. That was the name.

"No," he confirmed with a smile, "but we have a friend in common," he said, referring to Kalinda. A reference that wasn't lost on the blonde woman, as she nodded and hinted a light smile. "Now, you will excuse me, I have a trial to win," he said, with a pleased look and a lightly mocking smile. As he walked away and up the remaining steps, he resisted the tempting urge to walk back and to offer Spaulding his business card.

Maybe some clients had jumped ship too soon and too recklessly. His thought went to his own trial, only a few days away. He couldn't risk losing face, ruining his already stained image. He needed to come out victorious, innocent. He wanted his clients back. From the first to the very last.


	17. Chapter 17

he cheerful chattering of the kids and a homemade dinner were the perfect recipe to mitigate a little of Alicia's anxiety. Sitting at the table in her old dining room, she was distractedly smiling at her kids' weekly accounts. She had already heard most of it over the last few days, but for Peter, who saw them once a week, every word was new and a source of genuine interest.

She wanted to be present, completely, like her role of mother and wife would expect her to, but as hard as she fought, her mind kept wandering elsewhere. Thoughts kept on bouncing in an uncontrollable back-and-forth, from the trial to the elections, to Spaulding, to the trial again. It was too much to handle and govern at the same time.

"Are you with us?" Peter asked, with a hint of concern.

The upsetting image of Spaulding's fight with Cary from the previous day was still vivid in her mind. From her office, even with the door closed, she had heard every single word, every single accusation. Spaulding wasn't the accommodating kind. Even less, he was not the compromises kind. For what she could remember, she had always seen the guy get on pretty well with Will. They looked more like drinking buddies than client/attorney, at the point that she suspected that this was exactly the reason why Will took it so personally. It wasn't only about losing a client, but about losing a sort of friend too. A betrayal that, added to hers and Cary's had just amplified the already excruciating mutiny.

Maybe this was the reason why Cary and Spaulding were a nonstop strife. Cary was a master at empathizing with clients. His captivating smile and friendly manners usually conquered even the most skeptical. But Spaulding wasn't a skeptic. He was a very determined guy and God only knew how Will had always managed to get him off clean, every single time. She didn't want to know. But one thing she knew was that, when she heard the word  _bootlicker_  shouted and the glass door being slammed shut, making all the walls tremble, they had already lost their top client. Not for a split second had she blamed Cary. Actually, for the little she knew about Spaulding, she was astonished they had captured him in the first place. But for their firm, this was an ill-fated financial cataclysm.

In the exact moment as she was silently, listlessly sipping her wine, Will was probably sipping a beer with his drinking buddy, celebrating his client's homecoming.

"Yes," she smiled, unconvincingly. "Just… work," she reassured Peter. Or at least she tried.

She looked down at the empty dishes and decided to clear the table. At least she could keep her hands busy for a while and unload some of the stress on to the dirty pots and casseroles.

In two days her life would turn into a colossal mess. The trial in the morning. Election night. All the same day. How could people expect her to be all broad smiles, sobriety and polite clichés when inside she was a volcano ready to explode? She nearly threw a pot in the kitchen sink, and that's when she realized she was losing control over her nerves. She turned around to meet the astonished looks of Grace and Zach and froze. "I'm… I'm sorry… it slipped from my hands…" What a lame, poor excuse.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Peter glancing quickly at her, then at the kids and before he even opened his mouth, she already knew what was coming. She closed her eyes for a moment, fearing a confrontation she didn't want to have.  _Not now_. "Since we are finished with dinner, why don't you start to turn the Wii on? You still owe me the return match," he said with a faux smile and a voice that certainly didn't hide the tension.

She didn't hear any further words but she heard their light steps walk away, so she guessed they had just nodded and left. "Not now," she whispered, pleadingly, once she was sure that their hearing was out of range.

"Then when?" Peter asked with the same low tone. "After the election? When I'll be at the airport with baggage in hand, leaving for Springfield? Or you'll call me when I'm already there to tell me that you won't join me?"

"Peter…" She sighed, then shook her head. She had hoped she could postpone this conversation till… till when? She didn't know herself. Her hands holding tightly to the sink, she looked away, searching for the right thing to say. If there was anything  _right_  she could say in the first place… What could she answer? A fake promise she'd follow him? She couldn't come up with anything believable enough to be worth being put into words.

"No, Alicia. No." His voice was resolute, like it had never been, except in front of his political audience.

She had heard him pleading, angry, supportive, cold, but never this resolute.

"I… I've been patient… I've been understanding… I never pressed you…"

She was still staring away, yet she could feel his demanding gaze. And in this moment, she was neither willing nor able to withstand it.

"I gave you all the time you needed to think, to rethink, to understand what you wanted, what you needed, and at some point I thought I  _had_  you back…" His tone, so emphatic on that ' _had_ ' made her swallow, as her heart skipped a bit. "But now… I'm not so sure anymore… I don't know if I can count on you, anymore… In two days I might be elected and I don't know if you'll be there by my side…"

"You know that I will," she interrupted him.

"And you know what I mean," Peter retorted, his low voice now rising a bit in frustration.

Yes. She knew what he meant. That was the reason why she wasn't ready for this confrontation. Her answer wasn't a complete lie. In two days, she would be by his side. Was it on a podium to celebrate his win, or in the empty hall of a missed celebration. She would be there. But that wasn't what Peter needed to hear.

And if silence was telling, Peter didn't need an answer anyway. It was there, undisguised, in that mixed look of guilt and apology that she destined to the decorated floor tiles. The same tiles from five years ago. The successive owners had never changed them.

Not long ago, she had made a choice that was supposed to be her lifeline, both professionally and emotionally. A choice that should have pieced her life, her career, her pride and her marriage, back together. Tonight, she felt like that lifeline was instead an anchor dragging her down. How did everything fall apart so quickly? Was it a sort of payback for all those that she had hurt and harmed along the way?

"Why did you leave Lockhart & Gardner?" Peter's question, apparently so simple and innocent, brought with it a myriad of questions that had been left unasked for too long.

And for both their mental sanity and for the sake of both their marriage and the election, she chose the less harmful one. "You know the reason, Peter… it was for the partnership… it was for the way they used me, not once, not even twice actually… I've always been their convenient well for rich contacts, I've always been their way to you." She had sounded so convincing to herself, that she hoped her words reached Peter quite so convincingly.

But his disillusioned gaze told her differently. Yet, he looked away, outwardly unforthcoming to hear the real motives. "Kids are waiting…" It was all he said, then walked out of the kitchen. She heard him granting tennis payback, Zach poking fun at his second upcoming defeat, and she exhaled deeply. She didn't know if it was relief or anguish. She was just glad that for now it was over. For now.


	18. Chapter 18

What a fucking night.

The anxiety for the upcoming trial had kept Will up for most of the night. He was sure that he had fallen asleep at some point in a short-lived and restless sleep. Before 5:00 a.m. he was already up, lazing around his apartment, not knowing how to kill time. At 6:00 a.m. he was crossing the elevator doors at L&G. Wandering around his office like a lost soul was better anyway that wandering at home like a lost soul. The trial was at 9:30 a.m. and there was still plenty of time before he had to appear in court. He desperately needed a distraction.

_Or maybe not?_

Since he was there, he might as well make good use of the resources at his disposal. He rummaged through the archives and found the Stanford/Wayne folder. Maybe he could find something missed before that could save his ass. Even if every paper, every line, every single word had already passed through Diane's careful eye.

He leafed through the pages. Depositions from both girls, depositions from Rebecca. He cringed and was about to close the folder when a few words caught his attention.

_Chemistry… Drunk… Elevator…_

The guilty fanfiction.

He sat back comfortably in his chair and started to read.

'They were standing there side by side in the elevator, as she was still thinking about their earlier encounter. It had been a flop to say the least. They were so amazing together intellectually, so good and perfect. And kissing him had always felt amazing. She really did like him and he made her so happy after everything she had been through with Chuck and Louis.'

His face clouded in a bitter melancholy as images of the first time he had heard bits of that short story started to make inroads among the memories he had desperately strived to erase. His affair with Alicia was still in full swing. Or at least he had thought at the time. In fact, it was only a few days later that she had said goodbye to him, to what they had, to the best time of his life, to his dream of having her.

A dream. That's all that it was in the end. But at least for a while she had been his. He skimmed through the pages, quickly, catching passages here and there.

'Her heart belongs to someone else…'

'They had ended up at that hotel…'

'Now here they were side by side, it seemed like the alcohol had helped.'

That girl hit the nail on the head in a painful way. He didn't even know why he was reading that stuff in the first place. Maybe his masochist inner self wanted to punish him for placing hope in something that was never meant to be.

'She was soon kissing him pulling his jacket off him as well as shedding her own coat before he lifted her up and pressed her against the opposite side of the elevator, grounding himself against her. She was already soaking, there was nothing boring or terrible about this, and his erection forming in his pants told her he felt that way too.'

" _I wonder why so many people seem to have a thing for elevators," he had teased her, comfortably sitting on his leather sofa._

_It was a late work night. One of the many they had spent together since starting the affair, one of the few they had actually_ _spent_ _inside the walls of L &G. Diane had left a few minutes before. She had remained till very late and Will didn't know if it was to work or to keep an eye on them. Most likely the second, but at some point, she had just given up and left._

" _You tell me why so many people have a thing for elevators," she had heightened the tantalization. Sitting on his couch with the fanfiction in her hand, her legs crossed sensually, she had given him one of those looks, intense and leery. She had simpered and smirked, making him swallow and grasp at his tie for air._

_He had glanced around discreetly to make sure that nobody was still around. Especially Eli._

" _I don't know…" He faked pensiveness. If elevators could speak… "The poky space, the forced intimacy…"_

" _The stop button," she observed._

" _The lack of windows," he added._

" _Is it me or this office suddenly looks… poky?" She had said, looking around with a discreet smirk._

_He had nodded, knowingly. "The pokiest corner office ever," he had confirmed, as he stood up, slowly walked up to the couch and sat down beside her, yet keeping a distance. When she was like that, flirting, minx, discreetly_ _provocative_ _, it usually meant she wanted to take the initiative. And so he had waited, faking indifference and self-control that he had already lost the moment she had walked into his office almost one hour before._

" _His hand moved between her legs stroking over the silk_ _thong_ _already soaked with her wetness, as she pushed down his boxers too, his erection being freed. She wrapped her hand around it stroking his already hard shaft, as he pushed her_ _thong_ _aside and let his fingers slip into her wet folds."_

_Alicia had kept reading, in appearance unaware of his proximity._

_It had driven him crazy._

_The way she was looking down at that paper, pronouncing those words with a quiet, toneless voice as if she was reading Land Law. The way she pretended not to notice the effect she had on him. That was Alicia. She hadn't stopped. She had read_ _the entire story, thousands of words,_ _not sparing him a single look till she was done. Only then, she had put the papers down on the small table, looked at him, and burst into a muffled laughter._

_He must have looked pathetic, or desperately craving for sex, or she must have noticed his plain erection peering behind his trousers. But he had been man enough not to beg her. He knew that every second of that sweet pain would pay off in the end. Seduction was in Alicia's genes._

_Indeed, she had stood up, freed him from_ _his_ _trousers and boxers as he unceremoniously took her panties down with a quick gesture. Whether she wore a silk_ _thong_ _like in the story or not, he didn't bother to check. The detail was totally irrelevant when even the thinnest fabric was a huge obstacle. But if her passionate, ardent look was a hint, he knew that the little moment of teasing, the erotic reading and the adrenaline of knowing they could get caught "in the act" surely had on Alicia the same effect it had on him. She had straddled him and with one fluid stroke he was surrounded by her pleasurable wetness._

"Shouldn't you be somewhere else trying to distract yourself?" Diane's voice pulled him vehemently out of his lustful reminiscence.

He jumped on his seat and hurried to put the papers back in the place they were never supposed to leave. He tried as he could to dissipate every sign of embarrassment. "I was rereading the depositions."

"You don't trust your lawyer?" She asked with put-up offence.

"I don't trust my memory," he said with a half-smile. Lately it was playing weird, painful tricks on him.

He watched as she stepped into his office and took a seat in front of him. For a minute, maybe two, neither of them said a word. "How's Alicia?" he finally asked. He didn't even know why he worried. After all, he was the one with the highest stakes.

"Still praying she won't have to testify…" Diane said, very quietly.

He acknowledged her words with a light nod. He didn't honestly know if it was a good thing or a bad. Was Alicia worrying for him? Or she simply didn't want to bear the guilt of sinking him? After all she didn't hesitate to leave him, his firm and poach some of his top clients. Why would she now show any hesitation to sully him? "I need a drink," he observed.

"Do you plan to show up at the trial drunk?" Diane asked, in what looked like a mild attempt to downplay the tension of the moment.

He shrugged and hinted a light smile. "It would be fun."


	19. Chapter 19

Alicia slowly walked down the corridors of the SA's building, lost in thought, throwing casual, distracted glances at the offices. Stopping in front of Peter's empty office, she had a moment of hesitation as a new feeling of restlessness and anxiety added to the one for the upcoming trial. Her impending future hit her harder than she expected it to. The moment she needed Peter the most was the moment he wasn't there, coming to grips with the election day's hysteria. It was his life, his nature, the passion that always drove him in life, in every choice. She didn't blame him, but at the same time she knew that after tonight things were bound to get even more complicated. Now more than ever, she knew what she wanted – or better, didn't want – from her future. At least from a part of it. The rest was still blurry.

"Alicia…" Diane's quiet voice snapped her from her thoughts.

She acknowledged her presence with the shadow of a smile.

"Nervous?" Diane asked her as she walked closer and peeped inside Peter's office.

"A bit…" She said with a light shrug.

"Just remember what we said and everything will be fine," Diane said reassuringly.

But her calm, soothing tone didn't achieve the expected outcome.  _How could everything turn out fine? To tell the truth might entail the end of Will's career. To lie under oath might entail the end of hers. Neither of the eventualities sounded appealing._ She simply nodded.

They started to walk slowly towards the court and as they reached the door, Alicia had a slight start. His back to her, Will was already sitting at the defendant's table. The two women's heels clinked on the floor with an irregular rhythm. Diane's stride resounded strong and decided, drowning out Alicia's quick, short and insecure steps.

Probably recognizing the familiar steps, Will glanced back. He lightly nodded at Diane, then his gaze shifted to Alicia, lingering briefly on her. There was something in his eyes that she couldn't guess. Worry? Tension? Sorrow? Right now she was too tense to endeavor to read him.

She gave him a mirthless half-smile and sat a couple of rows behind them. Only then she spotted the woman at the plaintiff's table and recognized Rebecca Thompson. Her gaze was up, confident and lightly snobbish. Alicia felt a bit dizzy as the conversation she had with Will that night at her place came back to her mind, together with the haunting images of that woman with him. She cringed and looked away as the bailiff's voice rang out asking everyone to rise as the judge entered the courtroom then sat facing the attentive faces. The judge told everyone to sit and opened the session, the usual routine for most, but not everyone, today. She watched with her heart in her throat as Miss Thompson's lawyer first, then Diane stood up and gave their opening statements. Diane seemed so quiet and confident as she stated Will's innocence in an intent vs. act struggle debate, enthralling the jury to hang off her words.

For a moment she felt more confident. A brief moment actually. It lasted until the plaintiff called Will himself to the stand. Alicia stiffened and swallowed her discomfort. She'd rather be elsewhere. She'd rather not listen to the details of what that lawyer was unquestionably going to ask him. So when the man invited Will to state his relationship with Miss Thompson, she just looked away.  _One night stand. One night stand._   _One night stand._  The three words kept echoing in her mind and their reverberation was making her feel unjustifiably sick. She forced herself to think about anything else as the man asked Will for details of the conditions that led to that night. She forced herself to think that she had no right to feel that way since she had ended things with him a few months before it happened. A few months in which everything happened, including the Grand Jury and his suspension.

"So your relationship with my client is strictly personal?" the man asked.

"I'd say that it  _was_ , yes," Will nodded.

 _Personal_. What an original and politically correct way to call it.

Alicia glanced quickly at Diane. She still seemed quiet, sitting comfortably, her arms resting on the table, as the plaintiff asked Will about his job, about the Stanford/Wayne case and his professional involvement in it. Alicia hated when lawyers took it in such a roundabout way. But she trusted Will's nerves not to deceive him. And his short, almost telegraphic answers proved to her that, at least so far, he was as good under oath questioning as he was as a lawyer. It was what they always taught to their clients and witnesses. The less, the better.

"Then who was the lawyer in charge?" the lawyer asked.

"My associate, Mrs. Alicia Florrick," Will stated, casting at her an expressionless glance that she acknowledged with a light nod.

They had worked together on that case only for a few weeks. Still, it had been one of those cases that unconsciously but inexorably left a mark. Maybe because so many things had happened over that time. Every step forward or back in the litigation seemed to be accompanied by a step forward or back in their relationship. Every detail of that trial was somewhat connected to a memory. And having to relive it was against every attempt by her to lock up the past and put it in a drawer.

"And did you help her with the case as… let's say… as an advisor?"

 _Damn. Here we are._ Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Diane sitting up straighter. Probably preparing for some objection.

"Only during the first two, maybe three weeks," Will answered, very simply, his gaze shifting, almost imperceptibly nervous, between Alicia and the lawyer.

"Because you got suspended?" the man asked.

Will had a moment of hesitation, "Yes."

If his face, clouded in a tense grimace was a sign, Alicia knew that they both would rather not re-experience that period of their lives.

"Could you state for the jury what a suspension entails exactly?"

"It prohibits any contact with clients, any legal advice or assistance to various activities, like pleadings, negotiations or pre-trial activities," Will explained with a few, concise and very clear words.

"Legal advice… so you were not allowed to share any kind of information you got from Miss Thompson with your associate?"

Alicia nearly jumped out of her seat.

"Objection, Your Honor!" Diane demurred. "There is no proof that Mr. Gardner got or shared any information from Miss Thompson. The lawyer is influencing the jury!"

"Sustained," the judge declared in Diane's favor. "The last question shall be removed from the records, and the jury will disregard."

"Do you remember what you talked about during that night with Miss Thompson?" The lawyer asked, casting a sidelong glance at his blond client.

"Roughly," Will answered, quiet yet resolute.

"Can you state for the jury what you  _roughly_  remember?" The man invited him with a hint of annoyance.

Alicia's gaze shifted to Rebecca. Sitting back in her chair, a relaxed pose, she seemed overconfident and very determined, almost combative in the way she stared at Will stating the little he remembered of the certainly few words they had exchanged. Things about her career, its ups and downs, the work behind finding new writers, about the whole writing universe hidden behind the word fanfiction.

Alicia frowned, as she started to fear where those questions might lead. Her face clouded as the lawyer mentioned the fanfiction reading again and her eyes met Will's for a brief, awkward instant.

"Are you confirming that Miss Thompson confessed to you that she used to read fanfictions to discover new writing talents?" In the end, the lawyer had led Will exactly where he wanted…

Will glanced at Diane before turning his attention to the lawyer for an answer. "Yes."

"No further questions at this time, Your Honor, I would reserve the right to recall Mr. Gardner at a later time." The judge nodded and Will's taught expression and his eyes darting from Alicia then back to Diane, conveyed his internal struggle.

Alicia looked down. Her eyes closed to lock off for a moment the pessimistic feeling that was eating at her. Could it get any worse than this?


	20. Chapter 20

"Did you miss the part where I said I'm not coming?" Will asked his sister Sara over the phone. Pacing back and forth in his living room, he was still striving to release the tension of the day. She'd been spending the last half hour trying to convince him to join his family for an old friend's wedding. They both knew it was in vain, but at least she was lifting his spirits for a while.

"Oh come on, it will be fun, you need some distraction," she pleaded with him.

 _Distraction_. He was quite sure that the  _distraction_  involved a weekend spent being reminded for the millionth time that he needed a woman, while he was perfectly fine in the comfort of his own quiet apartment, without a reminder of everything that was wrong or missing in his life. He was pretty good at self-pitying without any additional help. And right now, a woman was the last thing he needed. He already had to deal with one defending him, one accusing him and one stuck in the middle who apparently wanted to defend him but likely would end up hitting the last nail of his career's coffin. Nope, there was definitely no room for a fourth one.

"A lot of champagne! And some pretty bridesmaids…" She added with a teasing tone.

 _Precisely_.

"No, you won't corrupt me with sex and alcohol!" Will objected between laughter and stopped in front of the French window, contemplating the chance of moving to the terrace. "And it would be embarrassing to say the least!" He had spent his high school years wrangling over her with the groom and had slept with his soon-to-be bride twice. What was difficult to understand about  _out of place_  and  _inappropriate_? "I'm already foreseeing the interesting conversation…  _Hi Bill, nice to see you again after twenty-five years, does your almost-wife still_ _have_ _that butterfly tattoo on her ass?_ "

"Did Nicole have a butterfly tattoo on her ass?" Sara asked, sounding astounded.

Maybe it wasn't her… "Was it somebody else?"

"Well, if she did, it's not a butterfly anymore, more like a… a bumblebee," she observed, almost matter-of-factly.

Will winced. "Thanks for killing the memory I still had of her…"

"You're welcome," she laughed, clearly amused. "But really… you should come…"

She was pretty much begging him and in the end, he knew that all she wanted was to give him some diversion for a couple of days. He sighed deeply and before he could even start to mouth a yes, she was already screeching her excitement in his ear. "But I won't stay more than the weekend. I have the next trial session on Tuesday and I can't screw it up." No, he certainly couldn't miss his own trial if he didn't want more troubles. But at least that made Sara stop screaming erratically in his head.

"Are you okay?" She asked almost in a whisper. When she used that maternal tone with him he didn't know if it made him feel better or even worse.

"Sure," he almost growled. His life was perfect. He looked down at his feet, then finally made up his mind, opened the French window and walked into the chilled air of his terrace. It was something he didn't do often. Maybe because he didn't spend enough time home to fully enjoy it. But he remembered spending some nice nights out there with Alicia. She enjoyed it. She enjoyed staring at the view from his apartment in the brisk air with a glass of wine in her hand, and she certainly took pleasure in his warm contact. She used to stay there, let her head fall in front of and against his shoulder, letting him circle her in a tight embrace. He smiled at the thought that maybe she just missed not having a terrace herself, but what mattered in the end was the endearment of those moments.

"You still there?" Sara's voice squeezed him out of his remembrance.

"Yes… just thinking," he said, as he stared at the traffic below. If things turned ugly, he would have so much time to spend enjoying that view that he likely would end up nauseated. "I might get suspended again."

"I know." She didn't add anything. Not that there was anything to add. She'd been there the last time it happened. And as much as he had kept repeating to everyone that he was fine with finally having some time for himself, they all knew that inside he was dying.

"I don't want to get suspended again."

"What happened to the future of rock music?" she asked, making clear fun of him.

He laughed lightly. He had to admit that it had been fun for a while. "Studs and worn jeans don't suit me," he remarked with a smirk.

"Uhm…. Maybe that girlfriend of yours finds you hot in a nice pair of worn jeans instead," she teased him a bit.

"Is that supposed to be a taste of what's to come for this weekend?" He asked, already dreading the answer.

"I already texted mom that you are coming, you can't eat your words now," she said in what sounded like faux intimidation.

 _She did what?_ He looked up at the sky and at a solitary plane that was crossing the sky above him and silently asked to the unknown flyers what did he do to deserve this. At least he was sure that they wouldn't answer.

"You can bring someone if you want," she said.

"I can what?" How did it even cross her mind that he would put someone, anyone through such a martyrdom? "No, thanks, I think I'll pass away alone, don't want another soul on my conscience."

"If you ditch me I'll personally take the first flight to Chicago and drag you here by your precious and well-groomed hair," she threatened him.

He burst into laughter and shook his head. "You are right, I need some distraction… I won't  _ditch_  you. I have to go now… say hello to mom and Aubrey."

"I'll do…"

He hung up and stepped back into his living room. He gave a quick look around, undecided what to do next, then opted for some relaxing TV.

He regretted his choice the very moment the image appeared in all its colors. With all this mess, he had forgotten everything about the election. The first three channels were all broadcasting real-time polls. Peter was already safely given as the new Governor of the state of Illinois. His gaze fell for a moment on his phone on the coffee table. He contemplated calling her. It lasted an instant. It was the most stupid idea ever. He turned the TV off again, grabbed his coat and left. He needed a good walk, even better with a drink or two in his veins.


	21. Chapter 21

Alicia knocked at the door. Once. No answer. Twice. Maybe her knock was too faint to be heard, but she was tired, actually exhausted, and didn't have enough strength for a more decided one. At the same time she knew it was late and didn't dare to ring the bell. She looked down at the dark brown, anonymous doormat and leaned forward, letting her forehead rest against the closed door. She didn't want to go back to the damn hotel now. Two hours of contrived smiles, forced public relations and people calling her Mrs. Governor had totally drained her. She just couldn't take it anymore. She needed to breathe. What would she do now? Her only option gone, she sighed and turned around, leaning against the door for a while, till eventually she let herself slide down and sat on the floor.

She must have given in to tiredness and fallen asleep at some point, because the light ding of the elevator that resounded in the utter silence woke her up with a startle, her heart throbbing in fright. She looked up to meet the most surprised and bewildered gaze ever and for a moment she questioned her decision to come here.

After a long hesitation, she eventually had to say something, to give an explanation. If nothing else, at least a faltering "Hey."

"Hey," Kalinda answered, as she started to walk slowly towards her apartment door. "Celebration's already over?"

"It is for me," she said with a faint voice.

Kalinda's look, so grave and a bit distant, wasn't one of the most welcoming. Certainly not one of those Alicia was used to getting from her in the past.

"Why here so late?" Kalinda asked. There was a slight resignation in her tone; the resignation of someone who already knew that the night was still far from over.

"I needed a friend," she whispered, her gaze fixed on her elegant dress. The dark purple, satin fabric was all creased, probably by her sleeping all curled up there on the floor. She looked up at Kalinda to catch her reaction to her words. She couldn't say she was happy, but she was sure she got some relief, or hope. She certainly wasn't mad.

"Are we still?" A relaxed pose, keys in one hand, she seemed more eager for a confirmation than to raise a real question.

Alicia couldn't really blame her. To leave the firm like that had been a real rotten trick and a stab in Will's back. And if there was one thing Alicia was sure of it was that Kalinda would always choose Will's friendship over her without thinking twice. Kalinda prized loyalty, a quality that she seemed to have lost as of lately. "I messed up everything… "

Kalinda looked up pensively for a moment. "Yes." Her simple affirmation came along with one of her typical knowing looks.

Alicia laughed at her bluntness and watched amused as Kalinda sat down beside her.

They fell silent for a while, enjoying the quietness, probably both lost for a moment in their own thoughts, as they casually cast tentative sidelong glances at each other.

"Will you leave?" Kalinda asked in the end.

Alicia looked at her friend awhile then back in front of her, thoughtfully. "I don't know…"

Kalinda gave her one light nod. "I guess it's time to decide?"

Alicia smiled bitterly but didn't say anything. She knew it very well, like she knew that she couldn't postpone making decisions anymore.

"Thanks for still seeing a friend in me, by the way," Kalinda added.

"Actually I went to Will first but he wasn't home," she admitted with a guilty look.

"Now I think he is home… at least he should… I dropped him back fifteen minutes ago, dead-drunk and singing the national anthem," Kalinda teased her.

 _Oh. Talk about bad timing…_  She burst into laughter and she didn't know if more at its irony or at the embarrassing image of Will singing the anthem.

"Nah… He wasn't really singing," she confessed. "Now can we go inside or do you plan to spend the rest of the night sitting down here?"

"Do you have tequila?" she asked, almost begging.

"Are you even asking?"

Alicia mustered some strength to stand up again and followed her. The brief sleep had left her a bit dopey and it took a moment for her body and mind to cooperate. As she walked in she realized that she had never been here before. The apartment depicted perfectly its owner. Minimal, modern furniture, not a single picture. Only a captivating modern painting hung on the wall in the living room. She stared at it for a moment, as Kalinda took off her jacket, disappeared into the kitchen and appeared back with tequila and two glasses.

"So… what led you here in the middle of the night?" Kalinda asked, as she sat on her black couch and started to pour the liquid in the small glasses.

Alicia shrugged. She honestly didn't know. She just needed someone, anyone, who didn't feel the need to remind her where her place was. "I need a time machine…"

"I could check among my connections…" Kalinda joked.

She smiled in amusement. Knowing Kalinda, she wouldn't be surprised if she succeeded in finding one. Sometimes she missed having her around. In spite of all the incomprehension and the past issues, Kalinda was the closest friend she had in years, and the most faithful one. "I'm glad that you didn't join us…"

Kalinda stared at her in what looked like faux disbelief, a filled glass in midair. "Should I take it personally?"

Alicia looked up and winced. "Well, put in this way it did sound bad… actually horrible," she laughed softly, "but you know what I mean…"

"I've started to understand what ties us…" Kalinda said, passing her the glass.

After a good four years of knowing each other, it was a beginning... "What?"

"The innate inclination to complicate our lives," Kalinda stated matter-of-factly, still not hiding a certain humor.

Alicia nodded. "Yep." She raised the glass in a toast and looked at her insightful friend. "To complicated lives," she toasted, then drank up all her tequila.


	22. Chapter 22

The 9 o'clock meeting looked more like a cage match than a staff meeting. Punctual with the announcement of Peter's election as the new Governor of Illinois came the early morning news that Eli was leaving Lockhart & Gardner. Will and Diane had a hard time playing umpire with David Lee's colorful elation over the not-so-unexpected resignation. Not-so-unexpected but still with the effect of a tornado.

It was still too soon to quantify the financial damage, but fortunately they had regained a few of their old clients over the last few weeks, which would likely make the fall softer. In spite of everything, Will was confident and Diane seemed quite so as well.

"Now that Brutus leaves, can I finally have his office for my new secretary?" David asked. Sprawling in his chair, munching on chewing gum, he looked between bored and annoyed.

"David, you don't have a new secretary," Diane observed very quietly.

"I will hire one now that we don't have to support Mordred anymore," David pointed out with a grin.

"You won't get Mordr… Eli's office like you won't get a new secretary. First you don't need it, second we still can't quantify the loss," Will stepped in. Even with Eli gone, those two would likely never cease to call each other every name under the sun. It was kind of funny.

And Kalinda might be thinking the same. At the far end of the conference room, she was standing, assisting silently in the circus. Behind her serious facade, Will could read the hint of amusement in her eyes and rolled his in exasperation.

This was going to be a very long day.

After 50 minutes of insults, protests and groaners, Diane stood up putting a firm end to the revolution and to the meeting. "I'll call Eli," she whispered in Will's ear before leaving the room.

He nodded in approval - diplomacy was her thing after all – then walked out with Kalinda. "You're unsightly today… Drunk night?" she teased him.

"Clearly not enough to skip this meeting," he answered with a smirk.

"Talking about last night…" she started with hesitation.

_Last night?_ He cast her a questioning, faux worried glance. "What did I do that I don't remember?"

"You, nothing… but someone else showed up at my door… actually at  _your_  door…" She hinted with a sly smile.

Will froze. He didn't need her to tell who the who was. He frowned, musingly. Why would Alicia feel the need to show up at his door on Peter's election's night? He opened his mouth, tempted for a moment to worm some information out of Kalinda. It lasted a moment. Did he really want to know? Did he really want to risk one more complication in his life?

_No._

He laughed ironically at the bad timing that kept on plaguing them, even now that there was – at least apparently - nothing left to break apart.

"Of course I'll deny having divulged that bit of information," Kalinda made clear, cunningly, her gaze shifting discreetly to the glass walled offices as they walked down the hallway towards Will's.

"You find it funny, don't you?" Will asked her with set-up reproach, and judging from the leery look in her eyes, he knew that she was up to something else.

"You know… I'm trying to remember the last time I've heard of a more fouled up relationship… Too bad I'm not into classic literature or I could bring up a few good examples."

"So long as it's not Romeo and Juliet… can't handle all the drama stuff…" He joked.

"I was thinking more about something like Lancelot and Guinevere…" Kalinda teased him.

Will stopped abruptly and threw her a sidelong glance. "Okay, that was a cheap shot…"

"Sorry… couldn't resist…" She said with a stare of guilty innocence, as she kept walking.

He hurried to catch up with her and said, almost in a whisper, "And I'm really not into threesome things…" He cringed, disgusted by the image suddenly imprinted in front of his eyes.

"I've heard differently."

"Did you do a background check on my ex-girlfriends?" Will asked, a bit shocked by the revelation that Kalinda knew such private and honestly old details of his life. Or wasn't he? In the end, it was Kalinda he was talking too.

"It wasn't necessary," she shrugged.

"I don't wanna know what else you know," he brushed by her, shutting his eyes for a second, "and by the way, there isn't any relationship, with the exception of the accused-witness one, which I'd honestly do without as well," he made clear, as he stopped in front of Diane's office and peeped inside. She was on the phone, probably with Eli, judging by her nervous pacing back and forth.

"Are you really letting her go?"

Kalinda's voice, calm and serious, pulled his attention back from his name partner.

"She's already gone." His quiet, resolute tone, was a striking contrast with the melancholy of his eyes.

"You know what I mean," she admonished him gently.

"Didn't we have such a conversation last night?" He asked, in a vain attempt to downplay – if not to stop - the suddenly bitter conversation.

"It was before she showed up at your door," she said softly.

If he didn't know Kalinda, he could swear there was a hint of plea in her voice. "Exactly. I wasn't there. A sign that I won't ignore. End of the game," he concluded, resolute, making clear that the conversation was over. Actually, it wasn't supposed to start at all. He looked back into Diane's office and as he caught her gestured invitation to walk in, he took it. "So how bad is it?" he asked, gravely, as he took a seat in front of her desk.

"That we know with certainty, Judge Foster, Mr. Wood and Cox," she said. With her impassive look she seemed to be waiting for his first reaction.

"Wood and Cox doesn't worry me, but Judge Foster…" He sighed. Judges were notoriously the best publicity for a law firm. If a judge trusted you enough to put their career in your hands, any client was subliminally drawn to do the same. It wasn't the direct loss that bothered him, but the consequences for the long run.

Diane nodded. She had probably come to the same conclusions.

Damn. They had just regained Spaulding and were now losing Foster. It was like playing dodge ball with Florrick, Agos & Associates. "Any way we can keep him?"

"Can you unhorse the new Governor?" Diane asked with a resigned tone.

Will sighed and sat back defeated. Even if he were given the chance, he knew he would never use it anyway. "No. You?"

"Say bye-bye to Foster…"

Will thought back to the conversation he had with Kalinda a while ago.  _You're underestimating the influence of political power_. Damn if she wasn't right.

 


	23. Chapter 23

Alicia was sitting in her office, head down concentrating on the latest case file with her head resting in her hands. She had overslept that morning after the previous night’s events. The election, the champagne, the long talk with Kalinda and the missed encounter outside Will’s door – she didn’t know if she was more relieved or deluded by that ironic lack of timing. By the time she got back to her apartment it was past 4 in the morning. Good for her that now that she was the boss nobody dared to reproach her. She was allowed to get drunk, spend the night with a friend and be late for work. One of the – few - advantages of being a name partner. 

A decided knock at her door made her look up to see Eli standing outside with an expectant smile. 

She swallowed the bit of annoyance and offered him her best press-dedicated smile - did she need to, anyway? She was pretty sure it was a useless effort with Eli – and invited him in with a light gesture of her hand. Now that he had joined her and Cary she once again had to get used to his sometimes intrusive presence. But now he couldn’t take up anymore with his favorite hobby; checking on her and Will’s encounters – whatever their nature. 

“Good afternoon, Alicia,” he shrilled enthusiastically as he walked in and took a seat in front of her.

“Eli,” she acknowledged him with a light nod and a half smile. “What can I do for you?”

“I promise I’ll steal only a couple of minutes of your time,” he pledged himself with an emphatic gesture of his hands.

Which would probably mean half an hour. If she was lucky.

With resignation she sighed inwardly, closed the folder in front of her and gave him her full attention. 

His hesitant look, as if he was gathering thoughts, wasn’t promising. When he did that, it was usually the foreshadowing of delicate arguments. 

“You know that tomorrow night Peter has his first official press conference at the Democratic Party in Springfield,” Eli started with hastened words.

“Yes, I know,” she nodded. “And I already promised that I’ll be there,” she added with a hint of condescension.

“And that is really a good thing for the image. But that’s not what I need to discuss,” Eli added, then silently stared at her.

Alicia kind of hated when he looked at her like that, expecting an answer to an implicit question she didn’t know. She opened her arms, questioningly.

“He should announce whether he takes his office in Springfield or not…” He offered.

“Okay,” she nodded, still confused, but slowly starting to guess what all of this was about.

“And… whether his family is… uhm… following him or not,” he murmured.

Of course…

She sighed and took her time to think of an answer that wouldn’t sound offensive but was definitive at the same time. “I think this is a topic for discussion with Peter, not with his campaign manager, Eli…”

“I know,” he agreed looking down. “But the committee is… very demanding and… quite elitist,” he explained, with an expression that gave away some apology. “They won’t like this state of… uncertainty…”

Uncertainty.

Alicia sat back in a mix of defeat and resignation and looked outside the window to the view on LaSalle Street. The building in front of her was slowly starting to become familiar, so was the coming and going of clients from the small cafeteria on the ground floor. She didn’t even realize it, but she had started to love it, she had started to feel at home. More than once she had wondered if she was ready to give up her newborn firm to move but she never took the time to really think about it. She stood up and slowly walked to the window. For the first time she was contemplating for real the view and what it meant to her. She and Cary had built something, maybe in the wrong way, but still they had. It was their firm, their corner offices, their eighth floor, their small army of fierce and loyal associates. “Peter will tell them the truth,” she started, her gaze lost outside and into the distance. “That my firm is keeping me in Chicago and I can’t leave the reins now…” She stated as she looked back to meet Eli’s light disappointment. He didn’t seem to like the answer, but it didn’t matter.

“And…” Eli started, then stopped hesitantly. “And… is that the true truth?”

She looked at him for a moment, pondering his question. The true truth… Its sound was almost funny, but the meaning behind it wasn’t. She knew what he was hinting. “It’s the only truth you’ll get, Eli,” she cut it short, as she walked back to her desk and sat down on her leather chair. Everything and everyone else other than her family and her firm were irrelevant. Or at least they were supposed to be. And she quite certainly didn’t want to share with him why she had left Peter’s election party the night before. “Is there something else you needed to discuss?” she asked, to make clear that the conversation was over.

Eli gave her a nervous, bitter smile and silently acknowledged her request with a light nod. “Actually yes… my new office…”

Alicia nodded and smiled mildly in relief. “Okay, then follow me,” she said as she stood up again and started to walk out of her office. She had made sure to reserve for him an office which was wide enough for him to not complain but at the same time far enough so that he wasn’t in her sight for the whole day. She’d been through that and learned that she couldn’t stand being locked on to, especially by him. Having Eli at Florrick, Agos & Associates was professionally the best move - though it hadn’t really been an option, rather a due acquisition – but personally it was like being back more than one year in time. “This is your office,” she said with a suited smile. She caught the slight perplexity in his eyes but wisely pretended not to notice it. “It’s the bigger one of course,” she hastened to add before he could complain. “We don’t want your guests to be cramped for room.”

“Of course,” Eli repeated. “When can I settle in?”

“You’re welcome to when you want,” Alicia offered. “Now… would you excuse me but..” She gestured back at her office. “I have some work to do,” she said as she shrugged in apology.

“Oh… yes… of course,” Eli said. “Thanks for everything.”

“You’re welcome,” she answered as she started to walk away.

“Oh, Alicia!”

She turned back at Eli’s calling her name. “Yes?”

“It’s a pity that you left the party before Peter’s interview,” he stated with a calm that upset her.

If this was a foretaste of the newly found coexistence, it wasn’t going to be nice. “I was tired,” she apologized with a half-smile, then left for good.


	24. Chapter 24

The familiar view of the stadium welcomed Will as his plane prepared for the landing. He didn’t go back home often enough, he realized with a soft smile as the skyscrapers got closer and bigger with each second, and the feeling of tranquility blended with one of mental distress at the prospect of two whole days with his family. 

He loathed having to admit that in the end Sara was probably right. He needed some distraction for the weekend, especially with another trial session looming over him in a few days like the sword of Damocles. And what better than a Saturday into his sisters’ clutches and a Sunday getting drunk at liberty to keep his mind busy? The perfect weekend, he tried to convince himself as he was welcomed into his childhoods’ home by the unmistakable smell of cinnamon-flavored apple pie and his mother’s warm, soothing hug. She held him tightly, reluctant to let go of him, her eyes a bit moist in commotion. Now he remembered why he came home so seldom; to avoid Eleanor’s emotional displays. She used to look at him for an undefined – but definitely too long – amount of time with that caring child-friendly gaze that was equally eye-roll-worthy and deserving of his most heartfelt and genuine smile.

He wasn’t sure how much she knew of the trial, or better how much Sara had told her about it. But the fact that five minutes had passed since he walked through the lightly creaky doorstep and she still hadn’t addressed the issue made him confident that she knew nothing at all. In that, Sara and Aubrey walked in with their usual irresistible enthusiasm, remarking how happy they were that he accepted their last minute invitation to the wedding. It was kind of amusing how they were at the same time his sweetest blessing and the most dreaded curse.

It took him a supernatural amount of patience to survive their attack and when the exuberant display of affection finally cooled down a bit, he quickly buggered off and locked himself into the quietness of his old room. The leather jacket thrown carelessly on the wooden chair, he let himself fall heavily on the bed and closed his eyes for a moment, the time necessary to luxuriate in the silence of these old walls. The mattress was softer than he remembered from the last time. He twisted and turned to make himself more comfortable, while taking in his surroundings and exhaling, a bit resigned. Baseball trophies, Georgetown’s pennant, old pictures with friends he couldn’t even remember the last time he heard from. His mother seemingly couldn’t get rid of all that old stuff. But the memory of those days made his lips curl in a shadow of smile. Then a soft, nearly imperceptible knock at the door announced what he knew was his mother’s visit. He invited her in as he sat up on the bed with a welcoming look.

“How was the flight?” she asked in a clear attempt to break the ice.

It was only a couple of hours from Chicago but those damn United Airlines planes always caused a pesky ring in his ears and with such short notice he had no other option. “Good,” he reassured her with a light nod. “You’ll never get rid of all these relics, will you?” he asked, pointing with his gaze at the way too crowded walls of his room.

“Why should I? This is you,” she observed with a put-up tone of reproach.

This is you.

“This was me, twenty years ago,” he laughed. 

“You think you’ve changed so much,” Eleanor’s sigh gave to those few words a meaning, a depth that nobody else would be able to understand, an emphasis that he knew well.

“Didn’t I?” he questioned her.

“Only in the appearance, in front of your important clients and your underlings maybe. But my Will is still there, cursing at the TV every time Orioles miss a good ball, searching every day for a new way to make this world better and making every girl within miles turn head over heels with his charm,” she explained with her usual placidity.

He raised a brow, not sure that the description fit him. “I don’t do that,” he exclaimed with a light laugh.

“You always did,” Eleanor persisted with a smile, as she stood up and reached for one of the pictures on the shelf. 

One from some school trip he guessed. There was some mountain’s lake in the background but he couldn’t place it anywhere, maybe Canada? Too many years had passed since then and his memory failed him. He had a vague recollection of those days, too many moments had to leave room for an unimaginable quantity of laws and cases. But the detail that caught his attention wasn’t really the where, but rather the who. Alicia stood behind him, her arms around his neck and a wide, contagious smile. He couldn’t help but smile too. She looked so happy.

“You were always surrounded by nice female friends,” her mother observed, calling him back to reality before he could start to overanalyze every detail of that lightly yellowed snap-shot.

Friends. Included the only one he always wanted to be more than just that.

“What’s wrong, Will?” Eleanor’s question forced him to a face-to-face with his feelings.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” he faked, pointlessly. Because the woman sitting next to him knew him better than anyone else. And certainly more than she revealed.

“You accepted a last minute invitation to a wedding I’m sure you’d rather avoid like a pest,” she hinted.

He looked away from the picture and at her for a brief moment. Her eyes were still fixed on that cheerful band of dreaming crackpots. “I needed a break.”

“From what?”

“Everything.” He shrugged, unwilling to disclose the details. He was here to distract himself, not to dwell on the aching. 

“Work or women?”

He acknowledged with an imperceptible exhale how his problems were always reduced to two simple categories. Though this time he didn’t have such luck of choosing one. “Both,” he admitted in a whisper.

“Okay,” she nodded. 

She didn’t ask anything else. If there was one thing he always appreciated in his mother was her discretion. At least one member of the family knew the meaning of that word. 

But she’d also been through so much because of dad to know how some things were better left unsaid unless the confession came spontaneously. “Want some pie?”

The change of topic relieved him. “Sure, I’ll come down in a few minutes.”

As she left, he stood up, put back the picture on the shelf and started to stare at all the others with inattentive eyes. The year his last strike won his team the league. The graduation day. Parties and celebrations for he didn’t know what. And Alicia was in most of them. Twenty years later he still couldn’t make up his mind about how he had lost her before ever really having her. There was a mean irony in that.

He shook his head and looked away. Maybe he should have stayed in a hotel room, for there was no way he could drift from his torments when everything around him reminded him of one of them. He winced and left the room. Thank God he had little time to spend in here. With some luck he could actually find some company for the night and not have to sleep there at all. Or maybe no. On second thought this was a bad idea, entirely awful. He didn’t need more complications.

Later that night as he lied on his bed, he found himself staring conflicted at his Blackberry’s screen. The familiar name showing in big letters was tempting and his finger lingered on the green button for longer than necessary. It was the perfect moment to call her, wasn’t it? 

To tell her what? That his room was filled with pictures of her from Georgetown?

If it sounded so laughably pathetic to his own ears, he could only imagine Alicia’s astonishment. The thought was enough to make him grimace at his moment of unnecessary and unwelcome soppiness. He turned the phone off, put it on the nightstand, then started to stare at the drab ceiling, summoning with a resigned exhale a sleep that seemed reluctant to come. He closed his eyes and in the dark the picture from that old trip came alive. He still couldn’t remember the place, yet her smile was brightly-colored in his memory. He remembered they had a good time, he remembered bathing in those frigid waters and he could even hear her diverted screams at the chilling contact with his splashes. He adored her laughter, so deep but mildly crystalline at the same time. Making her laugh was one of the things he used to love the most. He tried to recall the last time he heard such a hearty, warm laughter. Long enough to have lost memory of it. Clearly not long enough to still resound as an afterglow echo.

The memory must have accompanied him through sleep, for when he opened his eyes again the sun was already high. The chaotic bustle in front of his closed door pulled him out completely from his half-consciousness. The wedding. He struggled to remember why he had agreed to come in the first place. Like any usual day, he turned the phone on to check for missed calls, expecting none. But when a single beep contradicted him, he had a light jolt of surprise as he read the ID. 

“Wake up, sleepyhead!” Aubrey’s voice from beyond the door broke the moment abruptly. “You’re gonna make us all late!” She reproached him.

“I’m coming!” he shouted before she could storm in and drag him out of the bedroom. He stared at the phone one last time and groaned his disappointment. No, this definitely wasn’t the right moment to call her back. He remained with the curiosity as to why she had called him on a Sunday morning. Maybe she remembered something to help him? Whatever that was, he was resolute to carve out a moment during the reception and possibly before alcohol would start to stultify him.


	25. Chapter 25

The clock marked 4 o’clock in what was quite certainly one of the dullest Sunday afternoons in Alicia’s life. Kids away, Peter in Springfield, house clean and sparkly, her two cases reviewed and revised to infinity until she had learned both files by heart. She grouched to herself boredom-ridden, and opted for a surprise visit to Owen. At least he would enliven the rest of the day, maybe they could have a pizza together. Anything was better than this disturbing dead calm. 

She was already halfway through the door when her cellphone started to ring. She cursed under her breath as both her home and car keys clinked to the ground in her attempt to locate the vibration in her purse. As small-sized as it could be, in this moment it was having a Mary Poppins’ effect. When she finally managed to recover the ringing device she froze up for a millisecond as she read the name on the screen. “Hello?” eventually she hurried to answer before the call would go missed and maybe turn into a voicemail she’d rather not risk missing as well.

“Hey!” Will’s voice at the other end was high-spirited, a tad shrill and loud, probably to stand above the bedlam she could hear in the background.

“Oh. Hey,” she greeted him back, raising her voice a bit to make sure he would hear her. She realized she was still standing in the doorway. “I…” She faltered as she dropped everything on the couch and closed the door back behind her.

“Is it the wrong moment?” Will asked, suddenly dithering in front of her light hesitation.

“No. No no no,” she hastened to reassure him before he could actually hang up on her. ”I was…” …on my way out. “Just boring my Sunday away.” She shrugged with nonchalance, then sat down on the couch with an imperceptible sigh.

“Sounds like fun,” Will kidded.

And Alicia could swear she heard him chuckle. 

“I’d love to bore my Sunday away with you. Or with anyone else,” he stated with a tone that bordered between matter-of-fact and frustration. It made Alicia sit up straight and gape in blankness.

“What?” she asked, not sure she understood him right. What was he talking about?

On the other end, silence. She wondered if he was trying to come up with a decent rewording or just kicking himself. But the picture of him banging his head against some wall wouldn’t leave her and she found it somewhat funny. It brought an amused smile on her face.

“I meant.. never mind what I meant. Tomorrow I will be fine again and feel like a perfect idiot remembering what I just said. Or, if I’m lucky enough, I won’t remember ever having this weird conversation at all,” he said it all in one breath.

Weird was a perfect word to define this conversation. Still, a hint of drawl in his way of speaking concerned her. She raised a brow and wondered if… “Will? Are… are you drunk?”

“Clearly not enough.” The sound of a deep exhale reached her from afar. But from where exactly?

“Where are you?” she inquired.

“There is no way to define the nice picture with quotable words. At a wedding. An embarrassing wedding, to be more specific. With my sisters trying to saddle me with every single woman over 18.”

Oh. The image of Will with a teenager sitting on his lap was disturbing to say the least. Especially since she was still fighting with the image of him with that editor. She swallowed down the light discomfort and put on a nice smile, as if he could see her. “Nice of them to worry that you don’t get arrested for juvenile prostitution.”

“I might nominate them for sisters of the year,” Will agreed with a shade of irony in his words.

Alicia couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the sad image of Will in the hands of those two like a poor male Cinderella.

“You find it funny, don’t you?” he called her out.

“Absolutely,” she confessed, trying to regain a bit of composure.

Then, that same uncomfortable silence again, except for the ringing laughter that was still resounding in Alicia’s head.

“You called me,” Will finally spoke.

“I did,” she agreed with a quiet nod.

Alicia heard the festive howling rising as if the party were in her own apartment. Then someone called Will’s name. “We will talk in another moment. I don’t want to spoil your party with my weird mood,” she apologized, as she realized how the moment was plainly wrong.

“Trust me that it can’t get worse than this,” Will reassured her with a diverted voice, as the chaos diminished more and more until silence fell around him. “Are you okay?” His tone softened, overlaid with a thin veil of concern.

“Yep,” she lied, for she clearly wasn’t.

“Then?”

“They might call me to testify this Tuesday,” she finally admitted what was eating her with a deep, silent concern. 

“I know,” Will said.

Of course he knew. But that wasn’t the point of her worry. It wasn’t what had left her sleep-deprived for the last couple of nights. “What should I say?” The question was more to herself. She knew what she should say, Will knew it too. Diane herself had advised her to put aside any kind of feeling she might still harbor for Will. It was easier said than done and maybe if the same words, the same advice came from Will himself it would make it easier to go along with it, to cope with the guilt.

“The truth.”

The truth.

The truth.

How could five letters be such a bone-crushing burden? No, it wasn’t any better, it wasn’t any easier. Behind those five letters there wasn’t a plea but his resignation. “I just want this to be over,” she confessed in a whisper.

“Me too,” he admitted, quiet in appearance. But they both knew the stakes tied to this trial. There was no such thing as being quiet. 

“And you were right.” Words flew before she could think them. She regretted them instantly. Yet, she wasn’t going to take them back. If she had to come clean about this, the relative distance and the phone provided the perfect shelter from his wounded gaze. 

“I’m always right,” he downplayed the light tension. “Right with what?”

She took a moment to ponder her answer, to choose the perfect words. In vain. She could spend the rest of the day trying to come up with a delicate way to admit that her anger wasn’t professionally-driven and still fail miserably. “I wasn’t mad at you for using the information in the trial…”

She closed her eyes and waited with consuming impatience. For something. Anything.

“Okay.”

Okay, she repeated in her mind. Relieved? Disappointed? She couldn’t say for sure. There was a sort of bitterness behind that okay as a sudden, elephantine awkwardness filled the next few instants of false silence. 

Will’s sigh broke the impasse, making Alicia sigh in turn. 

“Why does it still feel like a Catch-22?” Those words, overburdened by the palpable resignation in his voice were the confirmation that she had failed her number one goal, one of her main reasons for leaving Lockhart & Gardner. 

All roads lead to Rome. In their case, all roads led back to the start. Will’s trial kept forcing her to grapple with feelings she was striving to bury, to delve into memories that always brought a delicate, shy smile on her visage, debunking her denial. 

“I don’t know…” Or did she?

“Alicia…” Will whispered, barely audible. 

She quivered. She quivered every time he pronounced her name like that. Soft, almost timorous, as if he had no right to call her. “Yes?” She bit her lower lip in a weak attempt to dominate the growing anxiety.

“When the trial is over…”

Here we are, she sighed. “.. I know…”

“This is…” Will started, then halted, maybe failing at finding the most telling words. 

“… yes…” She nodded. This was… This was too many things it wasn’t supposed to be.

“I want to go back twenty years in my life. Everything was so much easier,” Will observed with a hint of melancholy. 

Yet, she’d swear she heard him smile and played along with their memories. “I don’t recall bankruptcy law as ever being easy.”

“That’s because you hadn’t dealt with any real bankruptcy yet,” Will pointed out with an amusing self-irony that managed to steal a soft laugh from her.

“I’ll grant you this,” she nodded with a diverted smirk.

“Do you remember that school trip by the lake?” Will suddenly asked, out of nowhere. 

How did they wind up on a school trip. “Which school trip by the lake?” she asked, a brow raised in confusion.

“I don’t know, that’s why I was asking you,” Will replied.

Her hearty laughter exploded, resounding in the quietness of her apartment. “This conversation is surreal,” she noticed, a tad bewildered. 

“Can you bore away your Sunday drinking enough to forget it too by tomorrow so I won’t be left alone with this embarrassment?” Will pleaded her. 

“Why are you even there if you need to drink to survive the day?” she questioned him. She swung between concern and amusement, none having the upper hand. Without her realizing it, her mind was trying to process Will’s question and draw among her memories something with lake and law school as the common denominator.

“I’m wondering the same. I found a picture but I can’t remember where we were,” he commented, bringing the topic back on the picture and cunningly escaping her question.

Then, a brainwave. Or at least she thought. “Deep Creek Lake?” she tried.

Will remained silent for a while. Either she got it right or Will was groping in the dark. “Was it?”

Definitely not the first. “No idea, throwing a random guess,” she shrugged.

“I liked you with the long hair,” Will noticed.

“Now you sound like my mother,” she reproached him, jokingly. A joke that probably was going to get lost on Will’s champagne-numbness.

“But you are beautiful with short hair too.”

Exactly. “You’re digging your grave,” she marked up, conscious that this conversation would be forgotten the next morning.

“Maybe we should have this conversation when I’m sober,” Will took notice.

“Or when I’m drunk too,” she offered. Not a wise solution, actually. She winced and freaked out at her own words.

“Thanks for calling,” Will said.

Uhm.

“Actually it was you who called me this time,” she corrected him, causing a moment of embarrassing silence. 

“I’ll just pretend this conversation never existed,” he capitulated in front of the superiority of her sober mind. 

She smiled sweetly and considered that it was better to end this conversation before they could reach a new level of abashment. There was still the chance they would both remember this conversation tomorrow and she had already come cleaner than she should. “See you on Tuesday,” she gently dismissed him.

“Yes, see you on Tuesday,” he repeated with the same softness.

When a single prolonged ring told her that the conversation was over, she sat there for a moment pondering what to do. Should she still go to Owen’s? It didn’t sound like a good idea anymore. She could feel the dreamy smile imprinted on her face; Owen would catch it and start to peruse it before she had the chance to say hello.


	26. Chapter 26

Detox.

It was what he needed after such a stressful weekend.

Detox from too much champagne and food. Detox from his sisters. Detox from the brunette who made more than just one pass at him and she reminded him too much of someone he didn’t want to remember. In any other past moment she wouldn’t have needed to ask him twice. In any other past moment, she probably wouldn’t have needed to ask at all. Detox from that ephemeral picture of happiness that amplified his loneliness. 

Detox and loneliness were what he needed. His baggage quickly abandoned in his apartment, still packed, he drove to the only place that could give him both.

The reassuring ding of the elevator. The hallway shrouded in the late night’s darkness. His silent steps striding with unhurried confidence toward his corner office. Now he was home. 

A feeble light illuminated his office by reflection. With an amused smile, he acknowledged that he wasn’t alone. He stopped in front of Diane’s office, studied her for a while, buried into her work, and when she didn’t seem to notice his presence he knocked softly on the doorjamb, making her start in surprise.

She looked up from her laptop and adjusted her glasses to focus to the different distance. “I thought you were in Baltimore,” she observed.

“I thought you would be home,” he answered, slowly walking up to her desk. He took a seat in the chair in front of her, making himself comfortable.

“Kurt’s away for the weekend and you know that late hours are so fruitful,” she justified herself.

Will nodded, striving to hide a grin. “What did you need detox from?”

Diane eyed him briefly, her nose turned up in fake disappointment at how easily he had managed to unmask her. “My cousin is in town,” she admitted, in defeat. “You?”

Will burst into loud laughter and his genuine amusement echoed on the empty floor. God, he knew her too well and he had used that same excuse too many times to get tricked into actually believing it. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.” Wasn’t that the truth?

Diane’s features lightened in a bright smile, as her gaze shifted, conspiratorially, between Will and the cabinet. “Whisky?” she attempted.

It was a sure bet.

With a decided nod, he agreed to the alcoholic offer. “Who am I to decline?” He took his leather jacket off and placed it on the other chair. Diane joined him back seconds later with two glasses filled with their favorite, consoling liquor – what happened to detox, by the way? – and rested with her innate elegance against her desk.

No clink. No here’s-to-whatever. They had nothing else to celebrate – or to forget - this time but the miserable realization that their firm was their home. And in the end Will considered that it was better than not having a home at all. With a long, burning sip, everything felt better, less significant, light as air. 

“So… ready for the next round?” Diane asked him.

Two more days to the trial. Actually less, only one day and a bunch of sleepless hours. “Resigned. I heard from Alicia,” he gave away. Unnecessarily, for Alicia had always been a prickly topic of discussion most of the times and he should’ve learned better than to just mention her name like that.

“When?” Diane asked with a hint of concern.

“Today.” And he immediately prayed that she wouldn’t ask for the details of that conversation. He was still trying to reel from the hangover of embarrassment. One harder to get over than the champagne’s, apparently. Why did he move the conversation there in the first place?

“How is she doing?” she inquired, then sipped some more whisky and slowly moved, turning around her desk to sit back on her chair.

The trial. “Good.” This is why I brought her up. “I think.” The damn trial. “She’ll screw me on the stand, won’t she?” he asked with a put-up smirk of self-commiseration that made Diane smile in understanding.

“Probably,” she nodded, half serious, half-jokingly. But maybe it was two-thirds of seriousness and one-third of joke.

Way to reassure her partner, friend and client... “She doesn’t want to testify,” he pointed out. Nothing that Diane didn’t already know, anyway. She had surely met Alicia more times than he was allowed to know. She had heard things that he preferred not to be let in on.

“She has to.” 

Simple like that. She had to. She had to testify. She had to screw him. Why couldn’t that be one of those cases where new evidence emerges, out of the blue? Where Kalinda phones him five minutes before the jury deliberation with a new witness who had been holing up somewhere until the very last moment?

No. She has to. 

“Who prepared her for the stand?” he asked, wondering if he should really start to worry beforehand.

Diane eyed him up and down, pride etched on her face. “The undersigned.”

Oh. He faked panic but inwardly he was gloating, for he knew what that meant. “You haven’t prepped a witness in ages,” he reminded her. Ages he couldn’t quantify. Months? Years? Decades? He shuddered at the idea. Nobody expects you anymore to prep witness when you run a firm.

“I know,” she confirmed.

Another nod. Another hard attempt to swallow the irrepressible gloat. “Should that worry me or make me feel honored?” 

“Does it worry you or make you feel honored?” she asked back. “She’s ready,” she reassured him with a faint smile. “As far as a witness can be ready, of course.”

“Of course,” he repeated. “And if she fails, I promise that I won’t hold it against you.” 

If she failed, what could he do anyway? Fire her as his lawyer? The image was so ridiculous that he couldn’t help but laughing.

“If she fails, she can always hire you as her newest first year associate,” she suggested with a diverted smile that quickly turned into a contagious laugh.

“Paying my dues under Cary,” he contemplated, his brows knit into focusing on that paradoxical and definitely surreal future. “I always knew that karma would hit me sooner or later.” Not that he ever believed in karma in the first place. But he didn’t dare to try his luck by saying it out loud.


	27. Chapter 27

Alicia glanced at the clock and cringed in exasperation. It was almost two in the morning and sleep still wouldn’t come. She had to be up in five hours for an early Monday morning’s courtroom session and here she was instead, straining her eyes on the same book again; the one from their old case, the one for which there was a pending trial on Will now. She sighed, adjusted the blanket on her legs and went on with her reading.

 

‘They were standing there, side by side in the elevator, as she was still thinking about their earlier encounter. It had been a flop, to say the least. They were so amazing together intellectually, so good and perfect. And kissing him had always felt idyllic. She really did like him and he made her so happy after everything she had been through with Matthew.’

 

* * *

 

_On the ride down from the L/G offices and to the parking lot, things had started to heat up between Will and her. They had just won a new client. One of those big fishes that happen once in a lifetime. One compliment had led to another and before they realized it, the elevator had suddenly become unbearably poky. The ride was turning into a slow motion trip that made the upcoming – and highly deserved - celebration more distant by the second._

_A couple of hours and a glass of chilled red later, they were in his apartment, enjoying the bliss of the afterglow. Her cheeks were still flushed, as their breathing slowly recouped its even, unhurried pace. The placid, lighthearted pillow talk had somehow led them back to the embarrassing encounter with Diane, right before leaving the firm._

_“Saved by the bell. Or in this case by the ring,” Will had observed with a pinch of amusement in his voice._

_Specifically, the ring was the one on Alicia’s phone, which fortuitously decided to ring a few seconds before the elevator doors had opened to an all-but-oblivious Diane. Their exuberance had been hibernated with one single glare of the woman._

_“Never a saying had been more accurate,” Alicia had agreed with soft, muffled laughter, that had gradually waned back into the silence._

_Alicia used to love their silences, they never sounded empty, or awkward. Most of the times she and Will were much better at the unsaid, especially when it came to express their feelings. The spontaneity of their gestures and their natural intimacy were more telling than any word ever could. The way he toyed with a lock of her hair or tingled her arm, up and down, with tenderness. The way she rested her fingers on his neck, a bit possessively, because even if in secrecy, she loved the idea that he was hers, she loved that unspoken sense of belonging and familiarity between them._

_“You were great by the way,” Will had complimented her softly, his gaze lost somewhere on the ceiling._

_She had looked up at him, smirking in mild pride. “Thank you.”_

_“I mean it,” he had reasserted. “I don’t know many people who can hush that man,” he had kidded, half laughingly._

_“You are clearly not one of them,” she had poked fun at him, making him groan and roll his eyes in what looked like fake annoyance. Not only hadn’t Will hushed him, but had actually managed to get hushed instead. It had been an amusing image, kind of like living a Sweeney-moment._

_“That’s only because you have more effective weapons in your armory,” he had counterattacked in self-defense._

_Touché. She couldn’t rebut this, could she? The client had hung on her lips - maybe not exactly on her lips, - and she had considered how being an attractive woman sometimes helped._

_Still, she had to admit that Will had served her the winning stroke on a silver platter. “We are a good team, aren’t we?” she asked, though metaphorically. She didn’t need any reassurance or reaffirmation that they were a successful match._

_“The brawn and the brain,” he had confirmed with a diverted tone that made Alicia burst into laughter._

_She had turned to better face him, as her hand left his neck to draw an abstract path on his chest. “And which one am I supposed to be?” she asked, knowing that the question was going to heckle him._

_“Both, of course,” he had buttered her up with a decided nod._

_“What a suck-up…” She had punched his arm lightly in faux offense at his brazen attempt of flattery._

_“Are we still talking about work? Because as your boss I should scold you for your insubordination,” he had teased her. His hand had moved down to her waist, holding her tight in put-up superiority._

_She had adjusted into his embrace, clinging to his pectorals, then looked up and raised her chin to meet him halfway in a lingering on-the-tip-of-the-lips kiss. If she didn’t like it, she should be annoyed by the simplicity of how his clumsy flattery always seemed to work with her. The smile vanished, she was left with that undefined yet certainly out-of-line urge to verbalize her state of happiness._

* * *

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a familiar silhouette appear in the living room and standing a few feet from her. Alicia looked up from her reading and smiled at Zach.

 

“What are you still doing up?” She asked him with motherly concern.

 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he murmured. “You?”

 

She shrugged. “Same.”

 

Zach walked closer and sat beside her on the couch. “What are you reading?”

 

In her hand, the fateful book. She had read it twice, as if it was hiding some revealing detail, when she perfectly knew that it was nothing more than that; a book, and honestly enough, not even Pulitzer-worthy. “Just work.”

 

Zach peeked at the cover and chuckled. “In which way is… ‘A taste of happiness’ work?”

 

“Just copyright stuff,” she explained quickly, without getting too much into unnecessary details.

 

“When is the trial?” he asked.

 

Alicia gaped, a tad nervously. She was sure that she never mentioned anything about that trial to the kids. “How do you know that?”

 

“Overheard. Sorry,” Zach offered with an apologetic smile.

 

This apartment was definitely too thin-walled. Discretion seemed to be an unknown concept in here. “Tuesday.”

 

“Nervous?” he questioned.

 

Nervous didn’t even start to describe how she felt. “I might compromise a…” She hesitated, not really sure how she could – or should - define Will. “A _friend_ ’s career forever, so yeah… a bit nervous I guess. I just want it to be over.”

 

Zach nodded with an understanding gaze. “Did your friend copy something or such?”

 

“Nope. It’s… complicated. A long story that taught me the existence of a universe called fanfiction,” she joked to ease a bit the tension.

 

“If that’s the issue you could ask Grace,” he threw out there, with apparent nonchalance.

 

_What?_ “Grace?”

 

A single nod from Zach confirmed her that she understood correctly. Grace. But she wasn’t sure what he meant exactly.

 

“She writes fanfictions. But don’t tell her I was the one who told you or she will kill me,” he begged her, lowering his voice.

 

_Oh God._

 

Now she was shocked. “She does _what_? Why am I always the last one to know things?” Her arms flung open in astonishment.

 

“Uhm… Because you are the mom,” he stated with disarming quietness, as he stood up and started to walk back toward the sleeping area.

 

She gulped and turned pink as she remembered some of the most sizzling passages of the book, and shivered in horror at the image of her innocent daughter writing things like those she had read in that novel. She wanted to storm into her room and wake her up just to make sure that everything she wrote was restricted to an acceptable _rating_.  But she couldn’t, for she had promised Zach not to tell her.

 

“For what does she write them?” she stopped him on his way to bed.

 

“A couple of TV shows. Gossip Girls, Pretty Little Liars, maybe something else, no idea… why?” he wondered, looking confused.

 

Gossip Girls. She wasn’t completely sure but very positive that it was the show of the original fanfiction in question. “Nothing, just wondering…”

 

Maybe not everything was lost. Or yes? And what could she do anyway in so little time? Somehow she knew that Grace could be her lifeline. She just didn’t know how yet.

 

 


	28. Chapter 28

When Will walked into the court the room was still empty, except for a blonde head sitting at the defense table and apparently buried into papers enough to not hear him walking in. His choice to arrive early had been long and subtly pondered to avoid the embarrassing parade through the gloating tattlers, though it gave him more time to stress over the impending session. 

 

Yet an unconscious letdown veiled his face as he realized that Alicia wasn’t there either. His slow steps echoed in the room making Diane look up and at him. Her warm smile accompanied him on his way to the table and by her side.

 

“You’re here early,” Diane observed with surprise.

 

“You too,” Will noticed with a half-smile.

 

“I’m putting the final touch on Alicia’s questioning,” she explained with a placidity that floored him, considering the circumstances.

 

“Ouch,” he joked with a grimace, as he peeked into her notes with curiosity. A couple of questions were crossed out, replaced by annotations that he couldn’t decipher.

 

Diane looked back at her papers and started to gather them in an orderly heap. “Maybe only half an _ouch._ With some luck.”

 

He wondered what was supposed to happen to the other half of the _ouch_ but didn’t dare to ask. But he definitely had a few scenarios in his head that he wouldn’t mind to see play out. _With some luck_. In the end he chose to go with a heartfelt confession. “Whatever happens, thanks for being my lawyer.”

 

Diane didn’t look at him but he could see her eyes glimmer in gratitude at his words. “It was fun.”

 

 _Fun_. He could come up with a thousand activities more matching his idea of fun, but still.. “Yup. Real life comedy.”

 

The door got shut open behind them, making them both look up with circumspection at the incomers who interrupted their quiet exchange. In ten minutes the judge would open the session. He forced himself to divert his thoughts on something, anything else. The people who were starting to crowd the room provided an excellent distraction, until Rebecca walked into the room surrounded by an aura of pomposity and overconfidence, reminding him that his chances amounted to a percentage not far from zero.

 

Only when he spotted a familiar silhouette behind that woman he allowed himself to breathe again. Or did he stop completely in an unconscious apnea? Alicia was stunning. Dressed in red, head held up high, she seemed confident, resolute and fierce. Armed-and-ready in appearance, only an imperceptible wrinkle at the corner of her rouge-painted lips betrayed her tension. He observed her with contrived distance as she took a seat a couple of rows behind him. He hid a smile from his lips as their eyes met for a brief moment. A raised brow, lips curled up in poise. Damn memories resurfacing in the wrong moment. They had the unpleasing tendency to do that, especially lately. A glimpse of his old Alicia. A glimpse of her first year at Lockhart & Gardner when she used to sit exactly there; two rows back, watching him from afar with that same smile. Except this time he was at the wrong side of the table. His guard down, he returned the smile, well aware that it was like smiling at his hangman before the execution. The bang of the judge’s gavel brought him back to the realism of his surroundings. He listened inattentively to the old symphony that was the alternation of judge’s and plaintiff’s voices to establish the first witness. Just a pointless show since Diane knew the plaintiff was going to question Alicia first and she was ready for the counterattack. If Will knew her a bit, she had probably made a list of all the possible objections. The idea made him smile for those few brief seconds before the plaintiff spelled loudly for the audience _Alicia Florrick_.

 

He stiffened in his seat and swallowed with all the discretion that his position allowed him. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Rebecca turned to look at him. He kept his gaze up and straight, staring impassive at the judge. The clacking of Alicia’s heels on the floor resounded in his mind, amplified more and more at each step until she walked past him and to the stand. His gaze lingered on her body, resting for a moment on her curves, until the plaintiff cleared his throat talking down everyone in the room and started his heated string of questions.

 

Questions Will had already heard and answered himself.

 

Relationships established.

 

_“Former boss?”_

_“I left the firm a couple of months ago to start my own.”_

 

Responsibilities set in place.

 

_“I was Elizabeth Wayne’s lawyer in the Stanford/Wayne’s case.”_

 

Events reconstructed.

 

_“You won that case, if I remember correctly.”_

_“Yes we did.”_

 

Connections unraveled and rubbed up for the jury.

 

_“Mr. Gardner supported me for the first weeks until his six months suspension became effective and I took over the case myself.”_

 

Will sighed, a bit in impatience, a lot in frustration, as the man asked Alicia if she knew the limits that the suspension entailed. _No contacts with clients, no legal advice, no assistance to a variety of pre-trial activities_. He still remembered the lesson by heart. The carpet-bomb questioning was unnerving to witness but Alicia, in spite of the evident tension, was giving no apparent sign of crumpling. Not yet at least. Diane had prepared her well.

 

_“So he just stopped giving you any legal advice?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Did he still support you in any other way during the period of the trial?”_

_“A couple of times.”_

_“In which way?”_

_“Only with general hints.”_

 

The plaintiff was building his advance, slowly yet massive like a panzer.

 

_“General hints is a bit generic. Can you explain for the jury what kind of hints?”_

Will cringed. This wasn’t looking good. Alicia looked quiet but her chest revealed her fast-paced breathing. She was nervous. He started to pray that she wouldn’t cave in now. All he knew was that she had not looked at him once since she sat there and he could not really say if it was supposed to be a good sign or a bad.

 

_“Hints about checking if the fanfictions site kept an archive of the deleted stories.”_

_“Did he explain how he came up with that idea?”_

_“No he didn’t.”_

 

Will felt himself sink in the bench, drowning lower and lower in the quagmire. The plaintiff was slowly but inescapably leading her _there_. And he had to remind himself to breathe.

 

_“Did you know of the relationship between Mr. Gardner and Miss Thompson?“_

_“He was my boss not my boyfriend.“_

_“Just stick to yes or no.“_

_“No, I didn’t.”_

_“So you had no way of knowing he was using personal information?”_

 

“Objection, Your Honor, misleading!” Diane stepped in with confidence and calm outrage.

 

“Sustained,” the judge agreed.

 

_“So you are saying that Mr. Gardner ‘hinted’ that the fanfiction, the one that my client admitted having read to him, was deleted by the site?”_

_“No.”_

 

No.

 

No?

 

Silence fell in the room and Will cast a discreet glance at Diane who didn’t seem to notice his gaze. His partner and lawyer was staring at Alicia with an inscrutable face.

 

_“My daughter did, actually.”_

 

The plaintiff looked at Rebecca in confusion, caught off guard by something he wasn’t clearly expecting. But what was that _something_? He didn’t know it too.

 

_“She happened to be in touch with the author of the fanfiction at that time. She wrote a few herself and knew the author. She was the one pointing out to me that the book was not an original work of the author.”_

_“What a nice and convenient coincidence, Mrs. Florrick.”_

 

“Objection, Your Honor!” Diane protested. “The plaintiff is trying to influence the jury and mine the testimony implying that the witness is lying under oath!”

 

_“Do you have a teenager daughter?”_

_“I’m the one questioning here, Mrs. Florrick.”_

_“If you do, ask her how wide and known that universe is among the kids. You will see that there is nothing like ‘convenient coincidence’, or do you want to sue my daughter for fanfictions’ reading?”_

 

Alicia’s ironic tone, streaked with defiance, left really no room for doubt that she was on warpath and not willing to take any crap from that man.

 

One fist up to cover his mouth, Will struggled not to laugh in the plaintiff’s face. He had no idea of what exactly had just happened and how. He only knew that Alicia had just gotten him a free ticket out of Monopoly’s prison. She didn’t spare him a look as she walked to the stand, neither did she when she walked back to her seat. The fact that she had just saved his ass didn’t mean that she wasn’t mad at him anymore. Will just sat there, enjoyed the show he had been given until the judge closed the session. Only then he exhaled deeply in a justified and long-due relief.

 

“I couldn’t tell you about this _curious_ development,” Diane finally admitted. _She knew. She fucking knew._ “I needed you to freak out. Actually I _wanted_ you to freak out till the very last. Payback.”

 

Will nodded. _Touché_. But internally he was already considering a way to give Diane tit-for-tat for having kept him in the dark about the developments in Alicia’s questioning. Or were they already even? After all he had really given Diane a hard time. Her payback was probably deserved in the end.

 

A discreet coughing behind him pulled Will out of his musings.

 

“Grace will need a lawyer,” a familiar voice said.

 

He smiled and looked back to see Alicia standing a few feet from him. “They will never call her to the stand, if that’s what you fear.”

 

“Nope,” Alicia agreed, “but she will kill me for telling in court that she writes fanfictions. That’s what she’ll need a lawyer for,” Alicia joked, yet with a disarming seriousness. _She wasn’t going to forgive him any easily._ “Just so you know, I’ll bequeath my copy of that damn book to you as a reminder.”

 

He didn’t give her the time to add any other word. “Thank you. And I really mean it.”

 

She smiled, gave him one of those looks that had the gift of embedding in his mind for days – if not for weeks, - then turned around and left the court, leaving him and Diane to celebrate the success.


	29. Chapter 29

When her phone rang on her desk, she barely checked the caller id. Buried deep into work, she took the phone and answered with a rushed hallo before she could make mental connection of the name on the screen.

 

“I haven’t yet had the occasion to show you my gratitude.”

 

Will’s voice on the other end pulled her out of her meticulous prep of her cross-examination for the next day. “You said thank you.”

 

“I know, but words are so ephemeral,” Will joked, shrill in his voice.

 

Someone had definitely got up on the right side of the bed. Alicia failed to hold back a soft laughter and acknowledged that the trial outcome had likely something to do with that. “Did you have coffee and Shakespeare for breakfast?” she played along.

 

“I feel inspired today,” Will observed.

 

She was pleased, though a bit taken aback by his call. Yet, should she really be surprised? They had agreed to talk after Will’s trial would end and it looked like the day of reckoning might have come. She played calm and kept up the show. “That worries me.”

 

“Lunch?” Will’s question halted her with its very concise bluntness.

 

“W-What?” she stumbled over those few simple letters.

 

_Lunch._

 

“I mean,” Will hastened to add, “lunch as in _eating_.”

 

Alicia felt her cheeks flush and burn in embarrassment. How could that idea have possibly, even remotely, crossed her mind? She sighed, grateful for the distance, and tried like she could to disguise her inappropriate thoughts. “I know what you meant, I… I’m…”

 

“Navy Pier and pizza in one hour, that’s all.”

 

The hint of plea in Will’s voice made it hard for her to say no. She checked the clock, unsure whether she should accept or not. The file on her desk advised her that maybe it wasn’t the best idea, that maybe she could decline, very politely, and postpone the invitation to a better moment. Will wouldn’t mind for sure. _Lunch_. It wouldn’t take much, would it? In the end she had the whole afternoon ahead of her. “Ok,” she agreed in a low voice, before she had the time to ponder her options.

 

* * *

 

When she reached the pier, perfectly on time, she peeped around and realized with a veil of nostalgia that it had been years since she’d been here the last time. Both Zach and Grace were children, and though they lived only an half hour from the city, they would barely visit it. She remembered how Grace was afraid of the panoramic wheel and she never wanted to take a tour, unlike Zach who was a temerarious little boy. She smiled, a tad bitterly. She had no idea where her life was going. She had left Lockhart & Gardner for very specific reasons, not all professionally-driven, and somewhat it felt like universe kept trying to course-correct itself, pulling her back, over and over, where she was trying to run from. She was at a point in her life when she didn’t even know if she wanted to fight it anymore. And in some way, being here now, was kind of giving up. But maybe behind Will’s invitation there was really nothing more than a showed thank you and she was fantasizing fatuously.

 

She smiled nervously when she spotted him in front of the Italian pizza restaurant.

 

“Pizza and beer, I am in a generous mood,” he said half-jokingly.

 

With a faux impressed _wow_ she poked fun at him and followed him inside with an entertained grin.

 

Minutes later, they were sitting on a bench in front of the lake. The view from the pier was stunning. It would be a wonderful out-of-doors day if it weren’t for the few solitary clouds which now and then hid the sun, making the breeze a bit too cold for her taste. But the weather un-pleasantry was definitely irrelevant, if not completely unperceived, with Will’s presence next to her, spiced by a warm smile and the steaming pizza.

 

It was a weird sensation. Familiar, relaxing and pleasurable but at the same time awkward, confusing and burning in so many ways. She was no more used to sit around him, She was no more acquainted to his flustering proximity. She swallowed the faint discomfort and concealed it behind a shy smile, it was easier to appear natural, mingled in the noon’s crowd.

 

She accepted a slice and ate, absently, relying on the lake’s waves to help her untangle her life.

 

She could feel Will’s gaze fidget unsettled, shifting between her and the view, “So…” he started, tentatively.

 

She took a moment to answer. Her mind was already at work, projected into a hypothetical conversation, making up her own decision tree of answers to questions she still didn’t know. “Yes?”

 

“We agreed we needed to talk,” Will reminded her, his earlier glee suddenly gone. 

 

She nodded, then let a soft laughter escape her throat. “So you tricked me,” she sussed him.

 

Will smiled and nodded. “Sort of.”

 

If it were another moment, another place, she would probably be already standing up, preparing for the escape. Instead, the rhythmic ground swell hypnotized her, refusing to let her go. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

 

Will shrugged, confused, eyes locked on the panorama. “What?”

 

“Anything.” She cast a discreet glance in his direction and exhaled. She was aware that this wasn’t the answer Will wasn’t expecting, if he was expecting some concrete answer at all.

 

“And there I thought my drunk phone call last weekend was my most awkward conversation ever,” he downplayed.

 

“Maybe some conversations are better drunk,” she joked. _In vino veritas_.

 

“I’d tend to agree,” Will groaned, probably still remembering that conversation. “What has changed for you? I mean, since you left.”

 

Straight questions scared her like nothing else. Especially when she didn’t have an answer. What had changed? On a professional level, a lot. Responsibilities, a lot of them. Small sacrifices for high satisfactions. Or the opposite most of the times. But she knew that this wasn’t Will’s question behind the question. What had changed? “Nothing, something…” She shook her head, slightly frustrated at how words were unbelievably hard to find, even for an expert lawyer. “I thought I could just sever every tie still left and… things would eventually go back to normality. But I don’t even know what _normality_ is anymore.”

 

What was normality? Throw herself into work so she didn’t have time to muse? A husband who spent most of his days away and slowly ended up being a husband only on paper? She was in front of the umpteenth juncture but couldn’t decide, she didn’t want to decide. She kept waiting in the forlorn hope that this time, maybe, someone else would make a decision and spared her having to make one herself.

 

“We should try to get a chance Alicia. A _real_ one.” Will suggested, timidly, his gaze refusing to rest on her as he spoke those words.

 

 “I know. I just don’t know how to do it,” she confessed.

 

Will finally stared at her and their eyes met for a brief, yet intense moment. She didn’t know if he was pondering her admission or studying a solution to what he was requesting. Or if he was only looking for a way to beat a retreat. But the way he shrugged, almost with nonchalance, then offered her a half smile, reassured her that it wasn’t the latter.

 

“I’m not asking anything of you. We take it slowly, we try to rebuild it, see what happens,” he offered, quiet in appearance.

 

But Alicia had learned to recognize even the most imperceptible quiver in his voice. His calm tone was nothing more than a gentle façade. Inside he was probably a burning turmoil, exactly like her.

 

“You mean as in… dating?” she questioned him. She wasn’t completely sure she got his intentions right and truth be told, it’d been a good twenty years since the last time she did something like _dating_.

 

Will shrugged. “Something like that.”

 

Okay. Dating, taking it slowly, rebuilding what’d been destroyed. It sounded easy and incredibly compelling at the same time. It meant overcome more than just one issue. All the past hate, the misunderstandings, the regret, the resentment. The more she thought about it, the more it sounded demanding. “Okay,” she agreed in a whisper.

 

“Okay,” Will repeated with the same faint voice.


End file.
